


Real Or Not

by DagReaper (TyJaxReaper)



Series: Movie-verse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: -Ish, 1943, 1944, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Angst and Feels, Attempt at Humor, Awesome Clint Barton, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Bad Ideas, Brotherhood, Bucky And Bucky Meet, Bucky Barnes Bonding, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs So Many Hugs, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky Times Two, Canon Related, Captain America: The First Avenger, Clint And Natasha Are Sneaky Sneaks, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Has Issues, Deaf Clint Barton, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherly Bucky Barnes, Feelings, Happy Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, Identity Issues, Infinity Gems, Killing, Maybe - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Nazis, Nicknames, Nightmares, POV Alternating, Past And Present POV Swaps, Protective Bucky Barnes, Self-conscious Issues, So much angst, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Team Bonding, Time Stone, Time Travel, Time-Stone, Tony Stark Has A Heart, World War II, You'll Understand It, eventually, family stuff, movie compliant, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 39
Words: 100,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyJaxReaper/pseuds/DagReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Either this was very real Role-playing, or this was the war, and by the reactions and expression on the couple in the room… this wasn’t a game. But… that couldn’t be. It was impossible, preposterous nonsense that still hadn’t been reached in their science and technology yet. It was beyond what they had.</p><p>“What year is it…” he still questioned out of the need for an answer and confirmation that this was an idiotic thought, because it was. The soldier turned to gaze at him, trying to seem less dangerous so he’d answer. He still seemed understandably hesitant and reluctant, but he opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water, a few stutters of words and letters, and then-</p><p>“1943,”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I re-posted this after I screwed up the first time, I'm sorry :/ But it's back up and I hope you enjoy :)

The soldier sputtered and coughed, gasping deeply and painfully and feeling his chest contract and expand. He felt cold from landing in the freezing, muddy water below and it only made him feel worse than he'd already felt.

He coughed again, trying to push himself onto his side so he could lift his heavy, tired body. He was hurt, aching and exhausted from the fight, now weaponless. Apparently, forcing them to fight against each other wasn't the only plan Zemo had. The little man had caught him when his guard had dropped for a fraction of a second and he was hit with something. A glowing rock or whatever. A stone with a shine to it. It was thrown at him and he was suddenly forced down to his knees, yelling and screaming around him and from him and he was being propelled through the air.

And from the looks of it, this wasn't the building he was just in. Instead, he was surrounded by trees and grass and muddy puddles. It was raining, a heavy downpour completely soaking him from head to boot. James coughed a few more times as he managed to get up into a crouch, his hair instantly plastered itself to his face and neck and obscuring his vision until he snapped his head around at the sound of gunfire. He was, thankfully, still crouched on his knees, so he wasn't seen. The sounds of battle weren't that far away, but it wasn't close either.

His first priority was to find out where he was and then he could leave and find his way back to Steve and the team. And... he also needed to find a thick jacket, for warmth and to cover his arm. He'd doubt that anyone would speak to him if they saw the weapon just hanging there like some everyday limb. It would frighten them and they’d turn him away or even run. And he didn’t want that.

James eyed the area, scrutinizing and scanning each and everything he saw. His guard was going to be above high now that he knew he could be surprised by a weaponless man. He’d rather not take any chances at this point. And it didn’t help the fact that he was thrown and was now lost in god knows where.

He was drawn back by the continuous sounds of guns and explosions, grabbing his attention and causing him to wince from an oncoming headache. Not a headache from the noise, but one from a forewarning of a memory, something that was trying to break through his mental wall. He’d had a few of war, especially from his, supposed, time as a Howling Commando. WWII had resurfaced a few times, but they hadn’t lasted long, only a few memories, images. Gunfire, explosions, men calling out the name ‘Serg, Barnes, Bucky, or even Jimmy’ when they needed his attention.

He almost jerked in surprise at the deafening boom landing about a mile away, shaking the ground beneath his feet and forcing him to drop his head in instinctual defence. He tried to calm his breathing in that position, his heartbeat having started racing at the sounds and yells in the background.

At least he now had an idea on which way he was going to go. And that was not in the directions of firing guns and detonating bombs and missiles. He’d rather head away from all of that if it were an option.

James glanced over his shoulder at the mass of trees and overgrowth before turning back and cautiously standing, keeping his senses sharp as he started walking away from where he’d heard the battle. He must’ve been near a war currently going on in another country. That didn’t bode too well for his chances of seeing the team soon and being able to get them out of the cell Steve had mentioned. Apparently Stark was a massive talker when drunk and that little info had slipped. A cell-base for the Avengers and anyone of the like.

He was visually scouting ahead and to his sides when he felt his nervous twitch pick up, a familiar feeling hitting his chest. It felt sadly odd to him, a familiar feeling that he shouldn’t be able to place. And yet, he could.

From what he could tell, from the close battle. He was near the front-lines of a war, something he knew and had felt before he’d been HYDRAs’ puppet. It gave him a sad feeling, a sad nostalgic tug at his heart and emotions. The wars he’d supposedly been in so many years ago.

And it may have been him, but he didn’t feel like it. He didn’t feel like that man after these last seventy years.

The Sergeant of the Howling Commandos, that led one of the best teams through the front-lines of war. It was simpler and easier than anything he’d been through already. He’d had memories, nightmares, images, but not many. They all brought him back to the 1940s’, where life seemed like it was at its worst. The depression, the loss, the constant war between them and the Nazi.

But it turned out that there were far worse things to go through… and he’d been through that already.

He sighed deeply while keeping an ear out on his 6, but he didn't hear much. Just the forestry and bulks of gunfire, explosions and yelling miles and miles away from him. Where the military men were fighting and trying to win for more than just their own sake and freedom.

James easily and gracefully vaulted over a low fence, landing quietly in another muddy puddle before continuing to walk in a random direction, hoping to get to a town as soon as possible. It wasn’t dark, not yet, but it was getting there. The sun was already obscured by mountains and trees, not by the ones he was walking through, but the ones further away, in the opposite direction to where he was going. He’d rather not run around in the dark because if he was to come across a camp, he may be mistaken for the enemy and either be shot or taken in for questioning, probably shot if they took in his dangerous appearance, excluding his arm.

If he couldn’t find a town by nightfall, then he’d have to find shelter before it got too dark and that was when patrol usually increased. It wasn't that he remembered this. It was common sense to someone that had been on constant missions with the STRIKE team and knew more than a lot about military tactics.

James let out a deep yelp as he stood on a strange loose piece of wet mud and grass, slipping and sliding on his ass and into a massive, human-sized hole.

And another military tactic… was foxholes…

“Son of a bitch,” he panted after getting over the initial stun of the trip. His heart had metaphorically leapt into his throat and he could feel his blood pumping from the minor surprise. He’d actually forgotten about these. He and the STRIKE team rarely used them when he was apart of HYDRA, and by ‘rarely’ he meant hardly ever. He was covered in more dirt and grime, looking himself over to see the extent and it was like he took a bath in mud.

He was still a little breathless as he slowly pushed himself to sit up, lifting his head high and taking in deep breathes to calm himself. It just made it easier for the rain to pour over his face, drenching even more than before, if it were possible.

The soldier let out another deep huff before managing to push himself to stand, mud and sopping wet dirt either dropping from him or sticking to his black, combat trousers. He was covered in it at this point, from his fall earlier and now. He could only see a few large patches of black and that was only because he wiped some of the dirt.

“ _This way?_ ” James instantly snapped to attention, catching the… German voices. German, was he in Europe? He frowned, quickly and swiftly climbed out of the hole with trained silence, moving quickly through the overgrowth until he was a good way away from the foxhole and hidden behind a thicket of trees. He needed to be fast, agile and noiseless now. If there were voices nearby, that may mean that there’s a small troop, half a platoon maybe. He couldn’t risk staying, either way.

So, he didn’t wait around. As soon as he started hearing footsteps, multiple of them, maybe three sets, he gradually took off in the other direction. He was basically doing an ‘L’ shape from where he started. But at least he wasn’t heading anywhere near the explosions and gunfire. The area he was currently in must’ve been a cleared area, or the battle hadn’t gotten this far yet.

He darted around trees and shrubbery, being as fast and efficient as he was in missions. He stayed low and out of sight and gradually started to jog through the forest, feeling confident enough that he was out of eye-line and hearing range.

James slowed when he seemed to come to a clearing, massive and open, with a wide, empty and wet mud covered road crossing a path in front of the forest-line. There was a cornfield on the other side, a large shed on the other side of that and there was a town just off from the farm-like scene. He didn’t have a jacket, so he’d rather not speak with anyone yet. Maybe he could ask the farm owner? Or steal one… He’d rather not, but if it meant he’d warmer and his arm would be covered, then it was a necessity.

The soldier crouched as he got closer to the tree-line, looking both ways cautiously through the heavy rain. Everything had a foggy tint to it, the mist was thick and the rain was thick, splashing up after hitting the ground. His entire suit was heavy and pulling him down. If possible, he’d ask for borrowed clothes if it meant he could dry his tactical gear.

After a few moments of nothing he gradually moved to stand, still watching both ways before quickly darting across the road and over vaulting over the fence, landing gracefully and without fault. He started back into a jog as he made his way towards the cornfield, ducking a little once he hit the first line of them, to avoid a faceful. It was getting a little too dark now, the sun completely went over the mountains. There was minimal light now and he could only just see what was ahead of him as he trotted through the corn. It wasn’t a big field, maybe two yards? A yard and a half? He’d imagine it was the latter since he could already see the other end and shed coming closer.

James skipped a few times during the jog, his boots getting caught in the overly wet dirt and catching his balance off. It was irritating, but the thought that he might get himself some shelter purged that feeling. He wanted and needed somewhere to take a break and catch his breath. There was no way he had any kind of advantage for wherever he was and that unsettled him.

He darted out of the field, panting slightly before suddenly darting behind a close building. There was noise, voices, machinery.

“ _Take them and kill them, the house,_ ” more German. At least he figured that he must’ve been in Europe somewhere. It made it easier to think about how to get back. Though, he couldn’t pinpoint where the war was. There hadn’t been anything going on with Germany for years now. He didn’t recall any recent war going on that was this big.

James leaned close to the corner, peeking around to see a few men in uniform, very _familiar_ uniform. They were dressed in dark colours, swastika patches on red fabric around their arms. This was a very real re-enactment of WWII and he was suddenly feeling lost, in his own mind at just seeing the uniform and now taking in the voices and language. It was like a sudden spark lit painfully on his insides. He didn’t like this at all.

The soldier snuck further around back and crouched his way into the very well groomed garden with flowers and perfect beauty, clearly, a woman had her way with it. He reached the back door and grabbed the handle, being as quiet as ever as he opened it and snuck in, closing it silently behind him. He could suddenly hear cries, from a woman and fun, raspy voices of old age having caught up and he frowned before lowering himself into a deeper crouch. He shifted through the hall and stopped at the corner, peeking once again and hearing the aggressive orders of a soldier in the house. And then he saw him, angry and pointing his, what looked like, an old MP-40 at two civilians. Where did they manage to get an old German weapon like that?

He internally shook his head to rid himself of the thought and took a silent breath before launching out at the man, swinging his left arm and backhanding the man across the face with his metal fist. He saw blood spray from his mouth and then he ducked, his arm pulling back and he punched forward, straight into his sternum. James then swiftly circled the German and locked the metal forearm against his throat, using the only weapon he had to his advantage. He could still hear the cries in the background, from the seemingly old couple, huddled against the wall, the woman with her head hidden behind the man and the male was watching on in what seemed like terror, eyes wide and filled with fear.

James returned to the choking man, hearing the rasps and gasps of lost breathe as it left him. There was no yelling or audible sounds from him, only the choking and the feeling of his body getting heavy against him. Finally, after some time, he took a final intake of air and dropped against him, the weight forcing James to steady his stance. He gradually lowered the body and himself, taking a quick glance at the two still against the wall. The woman was sobbing into the man's shoulder and the was still staring. He slowly lifted a finger to his mask and made a gesture to keep quiet, the old male instantly giving a rapid nod, stroking the females’ head and hair

The soldier turned back to the body and quickly began raiding it, slipping the MP-40 over his shoulder. A P38 pistol was strapped to his waist, along with two types of hunting knives and three ‘MB’ grenades, small spheres that were highly explosive. All of these weapons were… they pre-dated the 21st century. They were all based on the War in the 1940s’, WWII to be specific.

Either this was very real Role-playing, or this _was_ the war, and by the reactions and expression of the couple in the room… this wasn’t a game. But… that couldn’t be. It was impossible, preposterous nonsense that still hadn’t been reached in their science and technology yet. It was beyond what they had.

“What year is it…” he still questioned out of the need for an answer and confirmation that this was an idiotic thought because it was. The soldier turned to gaze at him, trying to seem less dangerous so he’d answer. He still seemed understandably hesitant and reluctant, but he opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water, a few stutters of words and letters, and then-

“1943,” he gasped with a German accent, still afraid and more than a little wary with a hint of confusion. James’ eyes widened, his heart beating faster and his blood pumping could be heard in his skull. He felt sick, nauseous with his stomach churning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the end to make it easier for James to get info and the stuff he needs. At least he'll get some social contact too, to make it easier on him.
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoyed, let me know what you thought, yea? :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if there's a few mistakes. I wrote this chapter while I was up my sisters on my laptop, which isn't really that big. It wasn't a rush job, but it was in the early morning, I stupidly woke up at something past 6, so tired writing isn't the best in my case. Just let me know if you see one and I'll get to editing it for you :)

“19...43,” he hesitated, his eyes dropping low with strong pain and confusion. He was hurting, but not mentally or physically, he was just hurting. The idea, the thought that… if he was in that particular year, in Europe, then… World War II. He was in the middle of World War II. But, then that would mean that the present times’ James Buchanan Barnes was there, depending on ‘where’ in Europe he was.

His eyes snapped wide open an on reflex he grabbed the wrists of the hands that reached out to him, instantly loosening the grip at seeing the woman crying in front of him, focused on him. He was panting harshly, his breath barely taking its’ time and he was panicked. A panic attack. James blinked rapidly and forced himself to ease up, twitchily releasing the hands and letting the woman hesitantly reach again, her cold, dry hands delicately resting on both sides of his jaw with her thumbs being the only skin contact above the balaclava he wore. He forced his breathing to slow, keeping his eyes firmly focused on her as he spoke fast in German. The soldier barely had time to take in her words as he tried to drop his fear, confusion and mild rage at his stupid situation. Though he was sure there had been a ‘calm’ and ‘deep breathes’ said in a shaken tone. Without her needing to even say it, he tried. It impressed him that she had even attempted trying to calm a man that killed another right in front of her. She was something else and he was grateful for the effort.

_“ Thank you,”_ James spoke in her tongue, giving a small, single nod as if to acknowledge her. He reached his hands up, resting the gloved flesh palm over hers and being reluctant to touch her with the other. He simply used his two first fingers to carefully remove her hand from his face. He lowered them, giving another nod before taking a last deep breath and turning to glance at the body he disarmed completely.

He needed to pull himself together, there were more men around and they needed to be taken out. He’d make this his mission and try to ignore the fact that he may have time travelled. Though he still had solid doubt about this. And he wouldn’t admit that if it was, he was in complete denial until he saw himself. Which he highly hoped he wouldn’t. If he met himself, what kind of trauma would that bring? He'd be unstable, for sure. If he saw his face from before Hydra, it could really screw him up mentally and that would be bad for everyone. Would it trigger him? How would he react? There were so many questions starting to fill his head.

He couldn't think about it. James pushed the thought and questions to the back of his mind, wanting to get this over with and quietly cleared his throat and easily turned to lift the body by its’ upper torso, his hands slipping under its biceps before standing and walking in a half circle to drag the body to the back of the house, gracelessly dropping it in the empty doorway of the cleaning cupboard. It was out of the way of the door, which he surveyed quickly before bolting the lock and returning to the living room where a gradually calming, but hesitant couple sat against the back of the sofa, huddled low and out of sight of the windows.

James also crept low as he re-entered the room, peeking over to the windows to glance out. Luckily, there weren’t many there, half a troop maybe? Barely passing double digits. From what he could see, there was precisely nine insight, maybe a few out of his view, so all in all, there may have been up to over twenty in his area of the town. He’d have to watch carefully for more. This wasn’t an overly large town, but if he was spotted, he was sure more would come to aid the Germans. Meaning he’d have to fight in the open. He’d rather be a ghost at this current moment, and that idea seemed to work perfectly in the current time. It was dark, passed from day to night and this was perfect for what he had planning. Stealth was his forte, his renowned skill. He was trained for this.

_“ Stay,”_ James ordered slightly in the native language, aiming a firm glance at them and getting frantic nods in return. He gave only one back and turned the corner of the couch, crouching his way to the front door. “ _Lock the door behind me_ ,” was his next order and he heard light shifting behind him. The man came up to his side, seeming fearful and shaken. He swallowed thickly and the soldier reached up, grabbing the handle and easing it open with a very faint ‘click’. He gradually tugged it open and he slipped out into the dark, his raided weapons at the ready. James glanced both ways before darting out towards the gap between two houses across the narrow street, hearing the tiny ‘clicks’ of the door closing and locking behind him. Once hidden he glanced back over, to make sure that his order was obeyed and then saw that it was closed.

He let a silent breath pass his lips, feeling the heat of it gather in his soft mask. He eased his way down between the narrow walls and crouched low, lessening the chances of being caught. James slipped the gun further over his shoulders, making so it would barely move and make a sound, he grabbed one of the two hunting knives and held it tight in his right hand, his grip punishing. He could take this town out in a matter of minutes, easily killing these men with gunfire, but stealth seemed like the better option if there were more civilians alive. Hopefully, the elderly couple weren’t the only ones left breathing. He needed the chance to save these townspeople and doing his job quietly would heighten the possibility.

The soldier reached the other end of the lane-way, already seeing a few men there with wide gaps between them, three easy targets. And one of them didn’t even seem to be paying attention at all. His stance portrayed boredom. They either felt like they were wasting their time there or they were just stupid and didn't think that there was anything worth being alert for in the area. Inexperienced? More than likely.

The man took another quiet breath, easing the tension in his shoulders before peeking out around the corners and glancing for more men. Once he deemed it clear, he gradually edged out, a knife in hand as he closed in. He swiftly slung his left arm around the first, silencing him by easily snapping his neck with faint, sickening ‘crack’. He threw the knife at the next man turning his way in shock, the end piercing through his skull and he quickly darted forward, grabbing the hunting blade and sprinting for the one that had been paying the less attention, holding the knife as he stabbed it through the upper side of his throat.

The first few, swift, subtle and undetectable. He’d dragged the three back to the lane, quickly and quietly pulling each one back to his little hiding place and leaving them there to continue his stealthy takedowns. He continuously used the shadows to his advantage, keeping out of sight.

\----------

By early dawn, around four or five in the morning, he was hunched low near the couples house, switching between each home that he’d deduced had people in. James had a patrol and would skulk his way around the small town, keeping vigilant for more Germans. After taking out the last, there were none left in the area. He’d rounded the bodies up and dumped them in a large pile near the barn-like shed, close to the cornfield, which was thankful, out of sight of the roads if more men did decide to appear.

He let a tired sigh leave his lips and he stood, keeping his senses sharp as he crossed the street casually, walking tensely towards the building while pocketing his knife and trying to seem harmless again, even with the mild blood splattering his gear and some skin. He’d hoped that maybe they’d allow him to borrow a shower or bath, to wash it off before leaving. The drizzling rain didn’t seem to wash it off.

James reached out his fist and gently rapped on the wooden door, not having to wait long to see the faintest of movement and the curtain being drawn an inch or so to see an eye peeking out. And within seconds, the door was thrown open and the man was standing there in shock and a curve suddenly grew on his lips. He seemed happy that he was back and with no German soldier in sight. This meant that killing them was the right thing to do. And it would be even right-er if this date was, indeed, 1943. The Nazi were in the wrong.

_“ Come, come!”_ the man ushered him inside, a hand carefully reaching up to rest against his upper back to move him faster. The door was closed behind him and re-locked as he was walked across the room towards another back room, through a door to an almost empty, small area. There was a large, long metal bath near the wall, a fire heater below keeping the water hot with steam floating above. The woman was kneeling next to it, messing with the warmth-gauge, as if sorting to a perfect temperature. She quickly looked up at the sound of them entering and she gave him a wary smile, somewhat crooked. Maybe she wasn’t as happy about the idea of him being in their house as the man was. Maybe this was his idea and she was just going along because he saved them. He wouldn’t be that surprised, if so.

James watched as she stood and wiped her hands in her long skirt, seeming to dry them before smiling again and walking past him and out of the room. His theory was just being proved now.

He felt a gentle push at his back and stepped further into the room, the door half closing behind him as he strode closer to the metal tub. He stared at the heated water before turning to glance over his shoulder at the man, watching as he rifled through the drawers in the corner, pulling out a towel and placing it next to the clothes he hadn’t registered were there before. They must’ve guessed his size or gathered a load of old clothes that used to fit the man, assuming that James wouldn’t be any bigger than what the man used to be.

_“ Get in,”_ the man urged after noticing the lack of movement, eyeing him a little warily as he just stood there. _“ My wife won’t let you sleep on the couch or have breakfast with us if you stay like that,”_ he joked with a light smile, gesturing to his gear and the blood dripping slightly. The man was right and he felt a mass of relief at his words that he’d be able to rest and have a meal, and there were clothes out for him to change into. It was more than he’d expected and he was incredibly grateful. He’d have to thank the woman once he was cleaned up.

James gave the man a slow nod before he started unclipping and unbuttoning his stupidly designed jacket, the zip behind the buttons slipping down easily before he peeled it from the skin of his arm and slid out of it, the sleeveless side practically falling off first. He dropped it at his boots and went about taking them off next, hating out the drying blood seemed to turn into a type of glue after several hours. The redness cracked while he unlaced his boots and dropped them off as well, moving to his shirt and then feeling reluctant at the knowledge of another in a room. He was aware that it shouldn’t bother him, having walked around without shirts on in multiple HYDRA bases. They’d seen the scars and wounds and where the metal met skin, but… he was in a civilian home with a nice couple and he was afraid that he’d scare them more than he had already. This would surely shock the man if anything.

He took a shaky breath and hesitantly reached for the hem of his dark vest, pulling it up and over his body, his torso showing more and more skin was revealed. There was a stifled gasp when it was pulled up to his shoulders and then over his head.

James didn’t dare turn to look at him, afraid of the expression he’d see. He hated the look of fear, and even more… he despised pity and sorrow ‘for’ him.

Instead, he reached for his trousers, unlacing the belt before unbuttoning the button fly and dropping his underwear with the combat pants. He stepped out of his clothes and then reached up to the mask, forgetting that he’d still been wearing it. He slipped it up over his head and dropped it as well before stepping closer to the tub and then gracefully climbing it.

The tension instantly evaporated in the water that uncased him and warmed him. He gradually leaned back and started to relax, feeling everything just sudden drain and he even closed his eyes and took warm, easy breathes. He was vaguely aware that the man had returned to whatever he’d been doing, shifting things, grabbing others. Glancing over tiredly had shown that he’d grabbed the necessities needed to clean oneself, a brush, rag, towel, a razor, scissors if he needed his hair shortened. He wouldn’t use it. He was content with its current length and it was needed if he was in 1943. Shortened hair would be his downfall if he ran into the 107th. He’d be found easily. With longer hair, they’d need a second glance, and by that glance, he could’ve disappeared.

_“ The sofa should be ready by the time you leave the bath,”_ the man said, catching his attention. He watched as he gave a wary smile and then turned to leave, closing the door behind him.

James was incredibly grateful for this, he was content for once. He hadn’t felt this calm in a long time. He’d realized that he wasn’t being chased, wasn’t being controlled. He’d saved the remains of a town and was rewarded with a hot, much-needed bath and he was allowed to rest and relax for the first time in a long time. This felt simple to him and it was nice. He hoped that it would be just as simple when he returned to Steve… ‘if’ he returned to Steve. He would check in on him if he could, and then be on his way. He didn’t seem like a wanted man here, that was a sure thing.

Once James was well rested, he’d see if anyone needed any help, maybe bury the bodies and burn the German soldiers in a pit, cover their corpses and get rid of the scent of death. He’d like to pull more of his weight after being rewarded with a bath and a pillow to lie on.

He gave a warm sigh and sank further into the water, his hair slipping in and getting soaked as he dank his head under and letting the water cover him completely for a moment before resurfacing and threading his metal hand through his drenched hair. Just looking down at the surface brought a furrow to his brow-line, seeing the remnants of red fading in the water, the blood dispersing and spreading, fading until there was only clear again. Glancing at his metal arm, he saw the watered down pinkish tint of soaked blood, gradually dripping and fading from the metal. The blood was the only constant thing in his life, and just thinking about it gave him a grim image, the Winter Soldier, the suit he wore, the blood covered gear and metal and the mask. It wasn’t a nice thing to see and he quickly dunked himself back under the water, his hands gradually ghosting over his skin and arm to get the blood off of him.

He wasn’t that man anymore, not the Winter Soldier, nor Bucky Barnes of the 107th, Steve Rogers’ best friend and Sergeant of the Howling Commandos. He was none of those. Just James...

… he may need to change that if he really was in 1943, and ran into the platoon, which he doubted would happen, but if it did then… having the same face and name as the Sergeant would seem more than a little coincidental.

Jamie, Jimmy, Jefferson, Jack… he’d have to think on that one. He could easily just use Barnes as his last name, maybe pass himself off as a relative or twin that was separated years ago. And he could easily play dumb at seeing the man if they had a run-in. Act surprised, shocked. Maybe he could wear his balaclava and avoid confrontation altogether. Seemed simpler.

He’d have to ask the couple of ‘where’ they were in 1943 to be sure that there wasn’t a run-in. James was more than sure that seeing his own face at this point would be bad. He was still unstable that'd only make him more so and he was fine without any more identity issues. He had so many already and if he'd run into himself, it'd only add to it. He could barely remember how he used to be in this timeline. How he used to act around people, specific people as well as ordinary and the German's. How was he meant to handle seeing himself? How would he process it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed :) let me know what you thought and let me know if you saw a mistake somewhere. I'll get to it as soon as I can :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little longer than the other, and it was a little harder to write. So, if you see a mistake, or multiple, please let me know and I'll fix it right away :)

The only words that could describe his current mood and position, was pouting, maybe sulking. Because this was, indeed, 1943 and he was in Normandy. Almost exactly where Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was stationed at the damn time. So yes, the sulking in private was necessary to him. The world seemed to be working _against_ him, rather than _with_ him. There was a higher than fifty percent chance that he would run into himself and he didn't want that. He wanted fewer issues and the world seemed to want to give him more on top of all of the issues he already had.

James was sitting on the worn carpet, his knees held up to his chest while he was huddled between the coffee table with his back against the sofa. He wasn’t able to sleep and he wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t sleep through the rest of the hours of the _extremely_ early morning. He planned that early in the morning, maybe seven or eight, he’d start disposing of the German soldiers he’d taken out while the townspeople would mourn and/or bury their loss. He wouldn’t do it himself unless he was asked, it was too personal and private for James to do it. It wasn’t his right. And it wouldn’t _feel_ right. If he was asked, then he would help. But the German soldiers, the Nazi were his priority.

He was tempted to start now, to go outside and begin piling the bodies, readying them for a ditch or a fire. At least then he could disappear tomorrow and narrow the chances of running into his past self. He was sure that a team was already heading their way, having probably already gotten the call of an invasion of the town. He’d rather not risk a meeting if it was the Sergeant or someone who knew him. He could be mistaken for him or he’d be noticed and the man would be called out. It was an incredibly slim chance, but a chance he’d rather not risk.

The soldier took in a deep breath and let it out as a quiet sigh. He was tired, he really was, but everything that had happened and what he knew was to come from memory. It was all getting to him and forcing his guard to heighten and solidify. His attention was drawn to every little thing and he was sure that sleep wouldn’t come to him. It’d be impossible at this point.

After that hot bath, James had got dressed and walked into the living room, meeting the old man there, Alaric, pronounced as Al-ar-ic. Hannah was the woman, she was very kind and wary of him.He was surprised that they both weren’t, but he was sure, from what he’d gathered of the old man, that he was formerly a soldier himself, maybe having seen too much in his time and wasn’t too afraid because of what his eyes had witnessed before. Someone killing another person must’ve have been a new thing to see.

With another deep sigh, James pushed himself from the floor, trying to be as quiet as he could while climbing up onto the sofa. Screw it, he wanted to at least try to rest. He had maybe two or three hours before he planned to go outside to start piling bodies, and it wasn’t even that bright out. So, thinking that resting on the sofa for those hours would rejuvenate him enough to work for a good few hours the next day, regardless of the super-serums’ limitless energy.

He slipped under the extra blanket and dropped his head on the overly fluffy pillow, half of his uncovered face disappearing into it. He was too comfortable, it was too easy to physically relax into it. James wouldn’t fall asleep, but he would be able to rest his eyes and body for the next few hours. He'd just be aware of everything around him and if something happened. He'd only  _seem_ as if he were asleep, to the couple and whoever else showed up.

\----------

Which was almost impossible since his senses picked up every little creak of wood, every little drip from the faucet in the kitchen and every little noise the bugs and birds made from outside. The cricket sounds and the chirping, the creaking of the house and trees swaying, the barn doors opening and closing with the light breeze. Most of it was somewhat calming, but it got annoying pretty fast when all he wanted to do was relax, so he wouldn’t be overly irritated and edgy by the time he was outside, cleaning up bodies.

He already knew that he frightened the townspeople by just being there. They were wary of him because he was able to take out every Nazi man that was there in one night. They hadn’t even seen him and they were afraid. He was damn lucky with this couple.

It was nearly dawn, the light beginning to spread and slip into the room. It was a dim blue, changing the hue around him. It made it seem like a summer morning, a sun-following, a sun that you’d get out of bed for.

James let an irked sigh leaving his lips and seep into the pillow, his face almost buried completely in it. He was physically comfortable, but his mind definitely wasn’t. Already having gauged his mood, he would make sure he’d avoid verbal and physical contact with anyone and everyone. He’d stick to himself and keep quiet as he’d clean up the bodies.

The soldier released another huff and pushed himself to sit up, letting his legs drop over the edge to press down on the carpet. He glanced around and reached for the extra clothes on the coffee table. He quickly and quietly slipped out of the garments he’d worn the day before and jumped into a pair of _really_ dark green combat trousers and a faded grey long-sleeve. There were gloves there too, which made him very thankful to the old man. He seemed to be aware of James’ need for discretion without the solder having to say anything. He’d really need to thank the man for the long-sleeve and gloves. He wouldn’t need the scarf placed next to the gloves, he had his balaclava, though he was sure it was there if he wanted to use it.

He easily dressed, slipping into the clothes. He tucked the bottoms of the trousers into his mid-calf-high combat boots, tying the laces tight afterwards. James stood and tucked the hem of his slightly large shirt into the waist of his trousers, belting the pants up before looking at himself. He then grabbed the gloves and slid them over his hands, concealing the metal first. Then the end of the sleeve was tucked into it. He’d done the same with the other, to make it seem less suspicious, even if it didn’t. James wouldn’t admit that he was paranoid, but he assumed that it was him being just that in this time. It was only the war that was the threat. He wasn’t being watched of surveyed by anyone as of yet. HYDRA was still hidden until next year. They were outted after the 107th was captured.

The soldier looked himself over for the second time and lightly shook his head, shrugging himself off before he stepped around the furniture and made his way towards the front door. He’d made sure that, after his bath the day before, he’d tossed the other German soldier outside, the one he’d raided, and that was what he was met with after opening the door and stepping out into the cool morning air. He’d almost scoffed after just staring for a few seconds.

James reached up to his neck and grabbed at the hem of his balaclava, raising it up until it covered a majority of his face, from the rig of his nose and cheeks down. The only skin that was showing at this point was a sliver of skin under his eyes and his forehead and temples, though they were almost completely covered by his ‘still’ long hair. He wondered if Hannah had a band he could borrow, but he’d dropped the thought as it came. They’d given him so much as it was, even a hairband would be too much in his eyes, at this point.

He subconsciously reached for one side of his hair, tucking it behind his ear as he made to step around the now dead body, reaching down to grab at his wrists and began dragging him towards the barn. He’d noticed the empty field behind it, no plants or flush fields, just dead grass and mountains of dirt where he could burn each body. He’d take them further from the town though, in case the closer part of the field would be used to bury the loss of the town.

The soldier easily switch around and lifted the body with his metal arm, now having the limp Nazi over his shoulder. It’d be a decent workout, considering that there were bodies upon bodies that he’d left lying in alleys. So many of them and he’d be lugging them around the streets until he reached the field. James would pile them up first, hide them behind the barn just in case. If there were kids running around, he’d rather not leave corpses lying around in broad daylight. He’d scare more people and he really didn’t want that.

James walked around the large shed slash barn, striding all the way around to the back to where he’d deposit the body and leave to collect more. One right after another, and then another, and then another. He did this over and over until the light of the sun was shining over the streets of this little town, lighting everything up with a warm breeze and glow. It was way passed down, maybe passed nine or ten in the morning? And looking around almost confirmed it when he’d seen a few people walking around, hesitant, worried, and scared.

He didn’t make eye contact with anyone as he continued, trying to seem as harmless and as to himself as possible as he picked up bodies, two at a time and took them to the back of the barn. And he’d continued to do this unless he was asked to stop. Which happened at least three times in an hour...

… To be thanked.

He’d had no clue as to what to say or do at the time. The first few times, he’d just stayed characteristically silent as they instantly reached for his flesh hand and shook it rapidly. It had shocked him, stunned him and he’d fought off the instinctive urge to step back or guard himself. Instead, he’d let them thank him in their language, seeming scared yet so grateful to him for what he’d done.

A few actually followed him around, a handful watching him as he grabbed bodies and took them to the barn, dropping them behind it and out of view. It was odd, but he’d easily ignored it. Though that was until Hannah cautiously made her way towards him as he took a minute break outside of the house. Alaric had even joined her and was giving him a tired smile, to which he returned with a subtle, single nod.

“ _Drink,_ ” Hannah offered, holding out the cup of juice with one hand and a sandwich in the other. He’d just noticed, but she had a subtle smile on her lips too. James gave her a slightly wider one and reached out.

“ _Thank you,_ ” he spoke softly and genuinely in their tongue. He hadn’t actually thought of food, hadn’t crossed his mind that he’d be hungry until later in the afternoon and he’d hoped that it would be about the time he’d attempt to leave maybe. He still planned on disappearing, hopefully, before USA troops arrived. “ _I can’t thank you enough,_ ” he added, slightly quieter than before as he examined the food and drink and took the first bite.

“ _I think you have it backwards,_ ” she beamed fondly at him, her eyes slightly brighter than before as she watched him. “ _It’s us who can’t ‘thank you’ enough,_ ” he could practically feel the warmth coming off of her now. He was thinking that maybe her initial shock had worn off and now that she was composed, she saw him differently, much like how everyone else in this town seemed to. It was odd. James really hadn’t expected this reaction from them. He’d figured that’d they’d be terrified, wouldn’t even think of being near him, being close or even thanking him with such enthusiasm. It was a change, and one he was very grateful for. It lifted his mood to know that he wasn’t feared for what he’d done. It brought back some life to his own and he could feel a slight spark light in the pit of his stomach. What that was, he had no clue, but he didn’t dislike it.

\----------

James was walking back around to the front of the barn when he saw it, the mass of men across the cornfield and striding and driving along the road that led into the town, the one he’d crossed to get in the day before. They were earlier than expected if he was right thought they were. And by the size, he’d be surprised if his past self ‘ _wasn’t_ ’ apart of that lengthy troop.

The soldier let a shaky huff leave his throat and pass through his lips, catching and heating up the area of his balaclava that was against his mouth. He quickly trotted off towards the house he’d been staying in, easily catching sight of Hannah on the door, chatting with a few other women, most scared and holding tight to a baby and two kids cuddling their legs. The children eyed him warily, thought one stared in awe as he came closer, catching their attention and smiles. It was still odd seeing no fear in the adults. Though he wasn’t complaining.

“ _US troops are heading this way, can you spread the word and gather everyone?_ ” he rushed out with clear words in their tongue, glancing between each of the women to see the sudden snap of attention and there were rushed nods and words strewn around. They quickly did as he asked, separating off into different directions and stopping a few people as they ran around. He watched them speak to the ones in his sight and they intern glanced at him with concern and they ran off to spread more of his words.

It had only taken a few minutes for the word to get far enough around. The ones that hadn’t heard had followed the growing crowd to the centre of the town, slightly closer to the road that led in and out. And in the distance, the large mass of armed men could be seen heading their way. James had joined the crowd, sticking closer to Alaric and Hannah as if instinctively labelling them carers for housing him. Needed protecting, and so did this entire town...

When did ‘ _I need to leave before the US arrive_ ’ turn into ‘ _I’m keeping this town safe, under my protection_ ’? Somehow, that was what had happened and now he was standing there, in the group of people while waiting for the troops to arrive.

By the time the military had swarmed at the entrance to the town, the entirety of the people had gathered restlessly, only letting enough room for maybe half of the company to assemble and force their way in. The intimidation worked on almost everyone, men telling people to move back and spread out by physically moving them towards the walls of houses. James felt a rush of anger at seeing them being manhandled.

“I said, over there!” an American ordered harshly at an old man only a few feet away, and that was what made him snap. Even with Hannah and Alaric calling to him, he stomped forward and reached out with his metal hand just as the soldier was about to use the butt of his gun as the weapon. He’d grabbed it and swiftly got in the way, between the two and he scowled, using enough strength to make it so the man couldn’t move his weapon. “Get back in line!” he hissed in his face and James shoved him back with a faint growl, gritting his teeth. It was as if he was moving on instinct to protect the man. They shifted further back on the former Winter Soldiers’ strength, James putting enough force into moving them away from everyone until the soldier was trying to move James back. He’d laugh if he could, what with how weak it felt in comparison.

But then he flipped the gun quickly, using the head of it as a weapon and roughly whipped the man in the face with it, shocking him with the pain and hearing the high ‘thwack’ of it while he staggered back, still holding onto the gun, but James only need to push the weapon forward in his grip, the man stumbling and then falling back onto his ass. James glared down at him, eyes dark and threatening, intimidating and the look only darkened further at the fear that seemed to grow.  

“You aim guns at threats. Does he look like a threat to you,” he’d hissed out in a deep, rough tone, glaring daggers into the shock and fear that spread across the man’s’ features. “ _Answer!_ ” his voice deepened and the man actually jerked in fear.

“Put the gun down and get back in line, sir,” James only glanced up and he was double taking, his eyes widening for a split second at the familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Let me know what you thin, or what your favourite part was. Can't really give you mine because it'd be a spoiler for the next chapter xD But feel free to write in detail or vague-ness as to what yours was :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this one doesn't seem as up to scratch as the other ones. I think I may have screwed up with how I wanted him to meet Bucky.

It was the familiar voice that caught him at first, and then the familiar face. He was looking over at a man coming his way, two soldiers that he used to know. He knew him Dum-Dum, from the 107th and then he became a Howling Commandos alongside him and Steve. Seeing that actually shocked him, his entire body froze as they got closer and closer, his breathing caught and he stood straight. He made sure that his face stayed the same, the angry expression. And that seemed to catch his attention, making him almost wary. He seemed laid back, but he was on guard.

“Get back in line, sir. I’d rather not tell you again,” Dugan twitched his gun subtly, as if gesturing that he’d use force if necessary, but he just eyed him, carefully keeping his gaze firmly focused on him. He looked up to his mask a few times, occasionally questioning it.

“Can I check on the old man first?” he asked calmly, gesturing over his shoulder at the scared senior who was frantically glancing between them and looking away to somewhere on his left. James realized after taking a quick glance, that there was an old woman and a younger one with a child there, frantically staring back at the man. It must’ve been his family, the ones he was trying to get to when the jackass soldier saw him move.

“Yeah, make it fast,” the big, red-headed soldier casually waved him off, raising a brow after probably noting down his accent. James didn’t bother hiding that he was American. And that was probably a bad move, because they may ask him questions, they as in any soldier than happened to catch him talking bilingually.

Either way, he swiftly turned and stepped towards the old man, eyeing him carefully.

“ _He didn’t hurt you, did he? _ ” he also didn’t bother with cooing the man. He was sure that most of the men here fought in a war, served and lied down their lives, and he knew that being coddled wouldn’t be something they wanted, so his tone was somewhat flat and blunt. And the smile and little laugh he received confirmed what he’d thought.

“ _I’m fine, boy. I’m fine, thank you, _ ” he said with a deep, rough and gassy voice. He patted his arm and shoulder a few times, as if to show that he was okay and took a glance to the side, at his family. James did too, eyeing them before turning back to the old man. He seemed calmer, breathing having slowed from its pant. He must’ve been scared from watching what had unfolded in front of him. The soldier that James put on the ground. He must’ve thought that he’d get into trouble for saving him.

He patted the old mans’ shoulder before turning back around, glancing towards Dugan and eyeing him and the other soldier edgily. Luckily, his past self was nowhere in sight, so maybe he was checking around the corner with a few other soldiers. He wasn’t sure on how he’d react to seeing himself and he didn’t particularly want to find out.

“You’re American,” Dugan inevitably pointed out, just a simple statement that James inwardly cursed at. He wanted to avoid all this together, but if he remembered correctly, the man would keep talking until he had an answer for something. If James stayed quiet, there’d be a question after a question, after a question.

“I am,” he replied flatly, staying perfectly still in place with the two soldiers watching him. The one he floored was now standing further back, behind the, soon to be, Howling Commando.

“Where from?” another question came.

“New York,” he didn’t want to give away exactly where. They’d more than likely drag the James from this time into the conversation. There’d be more questions and paragraph upon paragraph of stories of the man or he’d appear at their request and that’d be a bad move. And he could say he was from anywhere else in New York. If his mask came off, there’d be more problems. Though saying that he was originally from Brooklyn, but moved at a very young age, it’d give him a chance to pass himself off as a relative or something if he was caught out.

… None of this sounded sensible or logical at this point, but what did? He was seventy years into the past with a younger version of himself running around. He was currently standing in front of two men he knew and was wearing old clothes that covered an immensely high-tech arm. What made sense anymore…

“Where in New York? The accents familiar,” accent? He’d admit that his Brooklyn twang surfaced every now and again, but it wasn’t that strong to recognize it or even hear it. And if it was, then his idea on saying that he’d moved at a young age was screwed.

“Originally, Brooklyn,” he added and inwardly winced at the realization-widening of their eyes, as if they just registered the place he said. He didn’t like seeing the flash of fondness over the name. They clearly knew something from the one word.

“Our Sergeant’s from Brooklyn,” the red-headed man smiled widely, dropping his firm hold on his weapon and letting it hang there, an arm resting over the top. His guard was lowered too, not seeming so dangerous anymore. He had a carefree smile as the guy he floored lowered his own weapon a few inches, apparently picking up that there wasn’t any danger or threat, even if James dropped the guy on his ass. They were calm, as well as James. He was gradually finding it easier to handle this situation now that he didn’t have guns aimed at him. “Heard of Bucky? James Buchanan Barnes maybe?”

… If he only knew...

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” he eased out the lie, his posture beginning to relax as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned slightly onto one leg. It was glad that the conversation and atmosphere seemed to ease up, because the crowd around them seemed to calm as well. There was more chattering and whispers and less crying and whimpering. The almost comfortable chat between James, the man that saved the town, and these soldiers was calming everyone in the vicinity. A domino effect.

“Huh, well you should meet him. He’s always talkin’ about Brooklyn, maybe meeting another guy from home would bring a smile to his sorry sack ofa face,” he was going to ignore that comment. If he remembered correctly, he got homesick if he was gone for too long. Leaving his family, Steve, the women and friends. He’d easily miss home, but keep it to himself so he would piss anyone off.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, instantly regretting it. He’d basically just agreed to maybe meeting his past self… “But I can’t remember a lot. I left Brooklyn when I was young,” he added, trying to seem put off about it, to maybe get them to reconsider. This obviously didn’t happen.

“S’aright, he’ll tell you what you’ve missed,” his smile just grew and he took long strides towards him, his hand reaching out and slamming down on his shoulder-blade, thankfully it was the right side, though not so thankful from how hard the contact was. He actually felt the faint hot sting on the skin under the shirt. His heart began to hammer in his chest when he was steered away from the crowds and towards more soldiers gathering at the entrance to the town. There were tents being set up, far apart with military vans parking up, scattered around the grass and nearby trees. They were going to camp out for the day, maybe two depending on if they were called out to another town. “So, what’s your name?” this was a question he was asking himself. He’d gone through names the day before, but he wasn’t too sure on which he should pick. There were so many he could choose from. He’d even thought of picking a name close to James, just in case he was found out. And then, as he’d said before, he’d be able to pass himself off as a brother or something. So Jamie was the closest name he’d thought of. And so...

“Jamie,” he muttered more than said, his voice quiet as they headed between a few soldiers just inside the town. For the most part, they were ignored, but there were eyes on him, watching him and questioning him, and the mask. It seemed to attract attention, but he was sure that taking the mask off would attract even more unwanted eyes. A few just said ‘hey’ to Dugan, completely bypassing him.

“You got a nickname, Jay?” the voiced boomed right into his ear as they squeezed passed a few more soldiers crowding around two tents. They were stepping around the field just inside of the town, passing by another barn, a more used and rotting one than the one he’d used to stash the bodies behind.

“I guess I do now,” he wasn’t going to say anything about the ones he currently had, or used to have. He didn’t like Winter, courtesy of Brock Rumlow. He was definitely keeping Bucky to himself. Terminator and Robocop would pass their heads, being references to future movies, according to Hawkeye. He really didn’t get them either. Barton kept calling him the two names on the way to the German airport. Even Ant-man joined him, though a lot more wary and hesitant than the archer.

He really couldn’t think of any other… So, Jay it was, he assumed.

\----------

It was like he was staring into a mirror, a younger mirror. James wasn’t that much older, maybe five years at least, if he considered every time he was dragged out of Cryo and the months he’d spent hiding after DC. But ‘ _Bucky_ ’ definitely looked far younger with short hair and those baggy, mud-green trousers and long-sleeved, green shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to about mid-forearm. He _did_ look really young. Now James looked older. So… either he could risk pulling off the older twin, which there was a less chance that they’d believe him, or he could pull off the ‘older brother by a couple of years’ thing. Because James was actually older at this point, _and_ he had thicker stubble than this James, and it was _apparently_ proven that stubble makes you look older. Or that was what he remembered from watching TV adverts.

It’d also make an easier story to say that he grew up in an orphanage. It’d give the impression that Bucky’s parents gave him away and that was why he knew nothing of an older brother, and make it seem like it was vice versa. The only problem would be that their parents were still alive, and Bucky could easily return home and asked them. Though… he didn’t remember returning to his house or his parents between now and when he fell from the train. So maybe this would be the easiest story he could roll with in this situation.

He just needed to act oddly with Bucky, glance at him a few too many times and eventually remove his mask. But he needed the right timing for that. It was all he could really do at this point. He couldn’t leave now, not with Dugan on his shoulder and soldiers surrounding them.

And honestly, he was sure he’d do more than his fair share of staring. So acting this out wouldn’t be too hard. It was just the question of the James of the past believing him. And he recalled being a stubborn basterd back then.

“Serge, got a present for you,” Dugan beamed as they got closer to his… uh… as they got closer to _Bucky_. The man looked up from where he was sitting on the bumper of one of the trucks, messing with his gun. There was an instant crooked smirk curling his lips and he moved to stand, glancing over him instantly with curious eyes. And much like most of the other soldiers, he paused on his mask, eyeing it for a few seconds before laughing a little.

“A guy wearing a mask?” his voice was almost exactly like his own, minus the roughness from years of lack of speaking and minus the flatness and general exhaustion.

“Not just _any_ guy wearing a mask. A guy wearing a mask who’s from Brooklyn,” as soon as Dugan said it, Bucky’s face snapped to him. He could barely catch the emotions rolling over him because of how many there were. Happiness, relief, warmth, hope, delight. There were a few more, but they seemed to pass by frequently.

“You are? Seriously?” James really couldn’t get over how happy he seemed from just hearing this. Was he always this cheerful?

“Yeah,” his lips twitched under his mask. His past self was talking directly to him, and he was lot more nervous than he thought he’d be. On the inside anyway. On the outside, he was calm, composed, all trained to not match his actual feelings if his inner feelings were compromised. “I… moved away when I was younger. Started travelling around,” It wasn’t technically a lie. He didn’t ‘move’ as such, he was taken. But he did travel, for his missions. He went everywhere, from Europe, to Norway, to Africa, to London, to-... He was pretty sure he’d been almost everywhere.

“So, I take it, you don’t know that there’s a shit-ton of new deli’s and bars everywhere?” Bucky got closer, a fond smile on his face as he stepped up to him. He still glanced at the mask, but said nothing, his attention on the shared Brooklyn experience instead of the odd fashion sense.

“Is Brooklyn just a Deli and bar city now?” he raised a brow with his sarcasm, hearing the other man bark out a laugh. He understood the joke just fine and he was glad that he took his dry-humour in. Truthfully, James couldn’t remember the last time he actually cracked a joke, dry ones included.

“I’d be surprised if my house is still there when I get back,” his humour was just as dry and flat as his own. So, maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought to get closer to his past self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed. Hopefully I didn't screw up too bad with the -James meets Bucky- part. Let me know what you thought and what part was your favourite :) I like talk to you guys in the comments :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize beforehand if it seems a little out of character at one point, but it was a little hard to write the scene. So, please don't be discouraged by that part, it was just a filler moment between James and Bucky. Hopefully I can make up for it with the end scene xD

 So, he'd admit that he was actually content, almost happy while talking to his past self. He hadn't realised just how upbeat and energetic he used to be. With his big gestures and constant talking, about everything and anything. He was somewhat wild and fast with movement and chatter, it was almost like he was talking to a completely different person, though if he thought about it, it was just that. He was talking to a man with his face and was slightly younger. They were their own individuals, but from the same time era where James was just frozen for a majority of the time and coincidentally ended up in the future with another Steve. Though out of the two, Captain Rogers was almost exactly the same as he used to be. Bubbly, easy to embarrass, truthful and chattery, true and strong and nervous and couldn’t talk to women. He was still the man from 1944...

Less than a few months from now, and that scrawny punk from Brooklyn would be the super-soldier that saved multiple platoons and troops from the hands of HYDRA, and saved his ass from being the Winter Soldier a lot sooner.

"Yeah, you should come along," he pulled himself back into reality when Bucky beamed a grin at him, causing him to raise a brow and sit straighter. He'd spaced out enough to actually zone out from the conversation.

"Sorry, what?" he took quick glances between Dugan and the younger version of himself. They seemed amused by this and just chuckled, Bucky slapping the side of his knee with his knuckles.

"Dum-Dum invited you on patrol, and I'm all for the idea," he repeated, still throwing that wide smile his way. James still couldn't imagine himself like that, smiling, talking and seeming so laid back, even in war. He was a complete 180 of this James Barnes, polar opposites. Also, he was pretty sure that they had the assumption that he was a soldier, because asking a civilian to join them would get them in trouble.

"No, I need to check on a few people," he gestured towards the town. He felt like he should after being dragged off by Tim Dugan. James didn't have the chance to check him over to his satisfaction and he wanted to make sure that Hannah and Alaric were okay. He didn't have a chance to ask. He'd just been dragged off. And he'd rather not spend an unnecessary amount of time with Bucky than needed. And it wasn't needed. He was trying to get his mind around what a paradox was and how it hadn't happened yet. He'd seen a few movies in the last couple of months, to waste time, and a few had time travel plots, most having issues with time paradoxes'.

He just assumed it was a person meeting himself in a time travel situation.

“I’ll walk you back,” Bucky mentioned with another smile before standing up, James calmly following the action and standing with him. He gave him an acknowledged nod and took a step away from the truck that they were leaning against, having sat on the front bumper.

“A’right, see ya guys later,” Dugan said as he stepped off to the side and started walking into the crowd of soldiers. It was getting dark now, the sky starting to dim and he was sure it was getting late now. Hopefully the men still in the town were letting people back in their houses for the night. He’d kick off if he returned to see everyone still ordered to stay against the walls.

“So, what’s an American doin’ here? of all places,” he took a quick glance at the younger soldier, seeing the curious gaze held forward, not looking at him, but staring ahead as they made it out of the mass of men in uniform. “And don’t give me that ‘ _I travel around_ ’ crap, ‘cause if you did, I’m pretty sure you’d avoid all this shit,” he gestured around them, to the war, the gunfire, the explosions. And James didn’t remember being this observant…

He could make a joke out of what actually happened, just say how he ended up there, because he knew that Bucky would just laugh like he thought that James was messing with him. There was no risk with explaining it because it was so unbelievable.

“This guy, Zemo. He threw a magic rock at me and sent me through time. I woke up here in 1943 when I should be in 2016,” he scoffed under his breath, almost taken back when he felt his shoulders loosen up, like a weight was lifted. How the hell was that even a thing? The younger man suddenly barked a loud laugh, getting a few glances and he felt the hand roughly patting his flesh shoulder.

“Good one, and I’m one of Howard Starks’ gogo girls,” he managed to speak through his hysterics. “Seriously, you’d be way over a hundred years old by then! Or what, you my grandson or something?” his younger look alike kept laughing. And it’d be dead on actually, if his math was right. He was born in 1917, he was actually ninety-nine years old, a hundred next year. So Bucky didn’t know how close to the mark he was. But for time's sake, he’d stick with being early thirties, to coincide with Bucky being about twenty-nine at the time. So, say… James would be thirty-two, maybe thirty-three.

His comment on Stark had actually stunned him for a moment. Because he’d killed him and his wife and he’d met his son. Talk about terrible coincidences. And the grandson thing… he could use that as an excuse if they found out that he did, in fact, time travel, but that was an ‘if’ situation.

“I think you’d look good in a skirt,” and James let out a genuine chuckle when his flesh arm was punched, a good, strong hit jolting him an inch or two to the side as they walked down a narrow street towards the couple's house he’d been staying at.

“Queer,” they both let out a chuckle, gradually calming down. It was meant as a joke, no insult intended. And he wasn’t hurt by the word. He was gay, or straight. He’d lost the want or interest years ago, after he was first brainwashed. It was all taken from him. Though, he had a few thoughts from the past, when he was the Sergeant. He remembered that he’d had fleeting thoughts on his sexuality. He’d just never acted.

“I don’t actually see anything wrong with it,” he muttered unintentionally out loud, his mind getting the best of him for a few moments. And he’d only realized he’d said audibly when the extra footsteps alongside him stopped, pausing at his words. James slowed down, his brow raising as he turned to see the open expression he was getting. Curiosity, surprise, caution, thought. Thankfully, he knew that he wouldn’t be judged by himself, considering the thoughts he’d had during this time in the 1940s’.

“The… skirt thing or the queer thing?” he asked quietly, wanting to make sure on what part of this they were actually talking about.

“... Homosexuality,”

“You don’t... are you…” his brows knitted with his words hushed, trailing off on his unfinished question. James took a breath, glancing down the street before turning back to his younger self.

“No, but I’m not straight either,” he answered quietly and honestly. Hopefully that would end this conversation. He’d rather not get any further into his thoughts and a few flashes of memory.

“Does that mean you’ve never had sex or something? No dames?” he raised his own brow at him.

“I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex, I just don’t have a preference,” he shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms in an unintentional defensive position.

“And… does that mean you’ve had both in bed with you?” he seemed all too curious about this and it was gradually getting uncomfortable. Because yes, he’d had it both ways, though with men, James had been in the womans’ perspective. He’d been glad that Rumlow hadn’t been one of those men that would force him any further than just sex. No insults, or blowjobs and dirty ‘slut’ talk. It’d just been ventive sex to relax him under Pierces’ order. And _that_ , he was glad for.

“Like I said, I don’t have a preference,” he shrugged again, turning around to start walking again. He wanted this conversation to stop, so spending less time standing in the middle of a street would be helpful. And he was hopeful that his words would seem more like a conversation stopper with its’ bluntness than a cue to ask more questions. And he was thankful that they were still standing close, they hadn’t had to have the conversation with the usual volume to their questions and answers. They’d hushed each sentence out of caution and fear that they’d be caught speaking about this.

He could hear the silence leaving his past self, his boot steps picking up the pace to catch up with his own and it was odd that he was feeling sort of… fond, at this point. He had this odd fondness when he heard him trying to catch up and keep a steady walk next to him. The younger James Barnes was following him, like Steve used to, an excitement and curious glint in his eyes on what the next adventure might be and he was eager.

James just hid the feeling, dulled it down in his body and tried to ignore that slight fondness he was having for Bucky. It reminded him of a little brother in a way. And that was why he was trying to ignore the feeling. He didn’t want an attachment. He didn’t want to be attached, to anything or anyone.

And he also didn’t like he’d been so open and revealing about himself, _to himself_. And in general, but it was a little more uncomfortable that he’d said all this to his younger self. He was sure that if it were possible, he’d change time. Telling him this could cause a butterfly effect and that wouldn’t be the best thing to do. One thing he said could start something else and it’d just keep changing and hell, he may accidentally make it so someone wasn’t born, or he made it so someone got hurt or maybe Tony Stark wouldn’t live and...

Stop thinking… he needed to stop thinking about it. He’d just depress himself and that wouldn’t be the best move in this time timeline. He needed sleep and that was exactly what he planned on doing after getting to his rest-zone.

“This is me,” he calmly muttered, breaking the silence as they stepped up to the couple's house, and hearing the noise inside and the door suddenly swinging open actually surprised the both of them, Hannah dashing out and coming closer to him to check over him. She glanced all over, eyeing him with concern. He must’ve grown on her over the very little time he spent there.

“ _Why did they take you? Are you fine? You’re not hurt?_ ” she rushed out in German, her hands not even hesitating in reaching out and touching a sliver of skin on his face that showed and the rest of her palms held over the fabric of the balaclava.

“ _I’m fine, I’m fine. I was asked to meet the Sergeant,_ ” he pointed out calmly, his gloved hands reaching up with a lot of hesitance and resting over hers, gently moving them from his face and directing a gesture to his look alike next to him. And as soon as she and her husband sent him a look, they paused, both seeming completely stunned by his appearance. “ _I think we may be related,_ ” he added unnecessarily.

“Why-uh… why are they looking at me like that?” he heard Bucky whisper the question to him, speaking warily and hesitantly as he backed up a step and a moved a little behind him. This was… he’d have to tell him now, he’d have to lie and roll with his original plan. There was no getting out of this at this point, so he may as well go with his plan.

Hopefully, Bucky wouldn’t freak out too much over this. He’d obviously be severely surprised and probably wouldn’t go on patrol. He’d maybe send another man out so he could spend time talking to him and trying to get something out of him as to why they seemed so similar. Thankfully, James had already said that he was formerly from Brooklyn, so he’d stick to his plan. What he was a little concerned about, was if he’d changed anything in the timeline that would have Bucky sent home. He’d rather not have him ask his parents, because that wouldn’t end nicely.

James would now have to tell him that his name was Jamie, though he wasn’t too sure on the last name. He could say that the Orphanage he was left at had known that the Barnes had given him up and that he was Jamie Barnes, born in 1914. That’d make him thirty-two, while Bucky was twenty-nine. Three years between them seemed fair.

After years spent in an orphanage, he’d left after reaching a good age and moved to Queens’, where that _Spiderman_ lived, or that had been what Steve told him on the jet, or left New York completely and travelled around until he landed in Europe years ago and just stayed there and that was where he’d learnt German.

James had almost sighed, now having to tell the man that they were related, and lie about it, no less. This entire experience would be a lie and it’d all be caused by him having been sent there by a man with a stupid shiny rock. If he ever returned he would rip out Zemos’ spine and feed it to him.

Well, now that he had a plan to follow...

“Because…” James paused, unintentionally turning around with too much of a dramatic feel and eyed him confidently. “They’ve seen my face and…” he couldn’t actually say it, too shaken. So instead, he reached up and played with the upper hem of his mask before tugging it down his face and over his jaw to reveal his features.

Bucky’s face just… it turned to pure and utter shock and fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you thought and what you're favourite part was. Mine so far s just the ending on this one, seriously enjoyed writing that part. 
> 
> Let me know what yours was or if you have any questions or suggestions. I'd be happy to expand on anything and answer whatever questions you have :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone says anything, yes, I may have screwed up a few things with where they are and the language. I only just figured out that Normandy is actually in France, not Germany :/ But I ask that you go ahead and imagine that they're on the borders of Germany, just to make it a tiny bit simpler? I may not make sense, but I'd rather not go back and fix it just yet, not until I finish this entire story.

He couldn’t remember if he was the type of guy that got over certain things easily. He really hoped he had been, otherwise, he’d be getting stared at for the remainder of the time that they were going to hang around together. Bucky was actually looking pretty pale, with his eyes directly fixated on him on the other end of the room, with coffee in front of him that was being ignored in favour of staring into an older mirror.

He just stared, wide eyed, mouth slightly agape, his body completely still. It was like he was actually in shock or became a statue. And James was worried that maybe he’d just broken him or something. He’d really hate if he just changed something in time by showing his face to… himself.

During the time that nothing was said, he wondered if maybe this would just disappear, like he woke up to realize that it was all a dream and that it was just an unconscious desire to return to the time when everything was so simple and it was just him and Steve against the world. The fights against the Nazi. And the dames and drinking games with buddies after cooling down for the night while serving.

He wanted to wake up and just be back in his old, rickety bed back in Brooklyn, Steve in the room down the hall, both getting up to have breakfast with his ma while listening to some old stuff on the radio, news paper already sitting at the table. No HYDRA, or SHIELD or superserum and enhanced shit.

… Like the Bucky he was currently staring back at…

Maybe, if all this was real, he could make a life for himself. Just something simple and small, an-... And maybe he can get a girl, have kids, buy a dog and live happily ever after with rainbows and butterflies and unicorn bullshit.

He huffed quietly to himself and leaned forward on the one seated sofa, reaching out to carefully pick up the cup of coffee and take a sip.

“ _Good night, men,_ ” he glanced to the side, seeing Hannah wave to them with a hesitant smile before leaving the room, heading towards the door that led to a small bedroom that belonged to the couple.

“ _G’night. Thank you for the coffee,_ ” he replied in a German mutter, taking another sip while Alaric got up and gradually followed behind the woman, probably planning to give her a proper ‘good night’ before coming back in. Like a kiss and a ‘ _sweet dreams_ ’.

James sat back in his chair, both hands around his cup as the bottom rested on his thigh, warming it up instantly. He turned back to Bucky, seeing him glancing between the door where they’d left through and him, seeming to have a little more colour in his face than before. He must’ve been pulled from his stunned state by the sudden chatter in the room. But even though he seemed to be aware of everything now, it was still quiet, the silence gradually growing awkward on Bucky’s side of the room. It wasn’t completely that bad on James’, but he could tell that the other man was stumped, unsure on what he should say or what to do.

“My name’s Jamie,” he muttered deeply while looking over the rim of his cup, taking a sip of the warm coffee and watching as the other soldier eyed him warily before clearing his throat. It didn’t seem like he was going to say anything, he was just watching him. So he assumed that maybe he should carry on explaining a few things that Bucky could maybe start a conversation on, or maybe ask questions about.

“Jamie Barnes… or that was what the orphanage told me,” that seemed to catch his attention. His eyes widened a small bit and he was outright staring at him like he had two heads or he’d just seen his left arm and scars. “Said that I already had a name, that _they_ gave me one before dropping me off there,” he emphasized ‘they’ to make it clearer on who he was talking about, their parents, or Bucky’s parents. “They raised me, I grew up and left, moved to Queens-,”

“You didn’t try to find ‘em? Ma ‘n Pa?” it was like he already accepted that there was a relation here, and it took him back. James was actually staring this time, watching him with a very mildly stunned look on his face. If he wasn’t from 2016, it would be a way too big coincidence that they looked identical, had a similar name and that his last name was Barnes. Clearly, he hadn’t ignored any of it and just seemed to accept it without a second thought. “Buddy, we coulda grown up together, or-,” he trailed off a little, pausing and looking lost. “-Looked out for each other and had fun. Like brothers,” was it supposed to hurt him after catching the weakness in his tone? The faint vulnerability? He’d know him less than a full twenty-four hours and he seemed so passionate all of a sudden, and over something that James made up to make life seem normal.

“I-,” he huffed. “I can’t remember if I thought of lookin’ for ‘em,” he put the cup down and ran his gloved hands through his hair, pulling the strands out of his face. When he looked back over his younger self, he noticed the curious and confused questioning eyes on him. “I was in a German hospital not too long ago. A nurse said I was hit by a truck outside of town, had a bad enough concussion that I lost a huge chunk of memory,” he lightly shook his head, the strands falling back into view as he moved to lean back in the chair and rested his skull in the hands still on his head.

“That sounds rough,” he knitted his brow sympathetically and seemed to relax slightly, seeming to stop and listen again as James shifted, bringing his booted heel up to rest on his other knee while leaning back into the arm chair.

“Wouldn’t know, can’t remember,” he scoffed humourlessly, seeing the light curve in one corner of Bucky’s lips. “And out of what I remember, in pieces. I grew up, moved to Queens. Got myself a decent paying job, and saved up ‘til I had enough to move overseas, and thensome,” he shrugged one shoulder, the free arm that wasn’t cradling his head.

“How long you been here? Why move overseas? And here of all places?” he actually seemed genuinely curious, if all the questions coming out in one hadn’t given it away.

“Couple of years, I think, and it was mostly out of curiosity,” he shrugged again, easily reaching out and grabbing his still warm coffee to take another sip, a little longer than the others. They were quiet for a few seconds, Bucky seeming to consider his words while nursing his own coffee. He seemed to be thinking, and hand by the faint twitches in the corner of his eyebrow.

“How long did it take you to learn German?” it was an off-hand question, nothing really important and it wasn’t a big deal, so he was thinking that this one would lead to more. Or maybe, he’d just been randomly curious to know.

“Not long. I learned as much as I could as fast as I could,” he didn’t actually know if that was a lie, because he didn’t remember anything about learning languages back in HYDRA, and he was sure he hadn’t known anything before, so they must’ve programmed them into him during his frozen periods or during the mindwipes.

“Have you ever tried German beer?” Yes, in fact, he had. Over seventy years ago, give or take.

“I have,” he smiled crookedly, taking the last gulp of his coffee before putting the cup down and relaxing back into the seat. He could already see the mischievous glint in his eyes, knowing what he was quickly planning in his head. So, to stop him in his tracks sooner better than later. “Don’t challenge me to a drinkin’ game. You’d die of liver failure before I’m even buzzed,”

“Oh really?” and… he was taking this as a challenge. Well done, James.

“Seriously, Sergeant. You really don’t want to try it-,”

“Knock it off with the formality. It’s Bucky-,” the next thing he knew, said soldier suddenly flailed until he was sitting on the edge of his seat, staring excitedly at him. “We need a nickname for you! Something like mine with a different first letter!” it was surprising to see how overly happy the man seemed to be about having an identical brother with similar names. It was odd, yet amusing. “You got a middle name?”

He never actually thought of adding a middle name his half changed alias.

“No, don’t think so,” he raised a brow at Bucky, feigning seeming thoughtful.

And before Bucky could even speak, there was a knock at the door, loud and heavy and by the disinterested huff, the sergeant knew who it must’ve been. He cleared his throat and stood up, putting his empty coffee mug down before heading around the seat and moving towards the door. He seemed to become careful as he opened it, a tired smile gracing his lips as he opened it fully and seemed to relax on the spot.

“Dum-Dum,” he grinned. Bucky seemed to instantly remember something and turned to him, his grin getting wider and he gestured him over. “Dug’, listen. There’s a reason why Jamie’s from Brooklyn, other than being born there,” he rushed out, still gesturing to him. James gave a tired sigh of his own and reluctantly pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders as he headed over and lazily stepped up to his side. He walked right into the soldiers field of vision and his face instantly dropped, utter shock written all over his features as he stared and glanced between them, going to stare again. “We’re twins, buddy,” he said excitedly, but then paused. “Wait, we’re twins right? How old are you?” he was thankful that he didn’t have to correct him, that would bring up more questions on how he actually knew.

“Thirty-two,” he answered in a quiet mutter, trying to ignore the intent stare that he was still getting from Dugan.

“So, maybe not twins,” James raised a questioning brow at him, like he was confused by his change in sentence. “I’m twenty-nine,” he seemed to notice and clarify for him.

“Holy shit, this is weird as all hell in a handbasket,” he turned to glance at the redhead of the three, seeing the still stunned look on his face as he frantically looked between them, again and again. It was completely understandable in this situation, seeing two identical guys in the same place even when they lived so far apart. Though James wasn’t from this timeline (sort of) so he had no clue as to why he was justifying it in his own mind. It’s not like they were actually related, but the same person, one having just been frozen over and over for a span of seventy years.

“Guess it makes sense, since you look a little older and a little bigger,” he gestured to his build, fully grown and broad with muscle on muscle trained into his body. He was a fully grown man, though Bucky didn’t seem that far off.

“This makes sense?” Dugan chirped up, still watching them like this was too unbelievable. “Two brothers, twins, born in different years, who didn’t even know that the other even existed, find each other after travelling over thousands of miles, during WWII,” yeah, now it did sound rather stupid when Dugan had said it like that.

“One hell of a coincidence,” Bucky mused with a grin, laughing lightly as he crossed his arms and looked over at him. James had only smirked and let out a faint scoff.

“Yeah… anyway guys, afraid I have to break you up for the night. Sergeant, time to patrol,” he mentioned tiredly, his constant stare starting to drop as did the mood, now that they had to part. Even James dropped his smirk at the realization of the time and knowing that they had to leave and do their jobs for the night. He was considering taking them up on their previous offer of tagging along on patrol. They’d get in trouble though, if they were caught. So he swallowed the thought and turned his gaze to Bucky.

“I’ll join you next time,” he let a soft smile grace his lips and patted the soldier on his back, a friendly, casual touch men occasionally shared.

“You better, Lucky,” he laughed a little and James dropped his smile to give him a flat stare.

“Be more creative, I’m not a damn dog,” he easily manoeuvred the man out of the door and he’d let out a few giggled, turning around to face into the building where James was standing, almost completely filling the space in the doorframe.

“See ya tomorrow, Jay?” he messed with his gun, subconsciously tapping the side with his fingers as the older look alike just nodded.

“If you’re still around, yeah,” he shrugged, watching as he shared a grin his way and almost skipped to the side as Dugan shoved him in that direction.

“See ya,” Bucky waved casually, a tired grin still on his face and James only gave a lazy salute before they turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. The soldier let a sigh slip his lips before he closed the door and stepped around the seats to relax back into the one he’d sat in before.

What had he gotten himself into...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter :) Please let me know what you thought and if you liked a certain part, please don't hesitate to let me know, I really like hearing what part was your favourite.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a talky-talky-explaining chapter. I hope you like it :) Sorry, I haven't updated this in some time. I keep thinking that no one's enjoying it and I'm basically putting myself down. But at the start, I did this because I really liked the idea and thought that I'd like to put it up as one story for myself :) Instead of something I did for others.

Memories, he had new memories, or what seemed like new memories. But of the past, he-... He’d been talking to himself, an older version. He’d been Bucky talking to James, like the day before, but he’d been in Bucky’s place, sitting there in shock of seeing his face on an older version of himself… James changed the past? His past?

He gradually pushed himself up from his lying position, his loose hair not tied into his bun falling over his face as he glanced down into his lap and frowned. He’d gotten new memories from the old days, like he’d just remembered the moments spent with his older self yet, he’d remembered up until the day before, when Dugan showed up at the door and then went on patrol. He’d changed a minor thing, deciding to talk to his past self and now he had the memories.

At least he knew now that he could change a few things, though he’d rather not, in case he screws with something really bad. James had the choice of saving himself on the train, if he managed to say that long. He’d rescue him and none of this Winter Soldier bullshit would’ve happened. Or it would have, but he wouldn’t have to go through and become… this.

“ _Penny for your thoughts?_ ” the soldier gradually turned his head to find Alaric in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. He’d known he was there, subconsciously. He just didn’t see him as a threat, so no alarms had gone off.

“ _It’s nothing,_ ” he replied as he dropped his legs from the sofa and pushed himself up, stretching to unlock his stiff muscles and hearing the faint whir of his arm buzz faster with his movement. He held back a yawn and stepped around the couch, heading straight for the kitchen to make himself some coffee. He pulled the band out of his hair and shook his head, loosening and untangling the slightly curved locks. It straightened out instantly and slipped the band over his left wrist.

“ _Doesn’t seem like it. Something woke you, be it your own thoughts. It’s bothering you,_ ” Alaric pointed out wisely, thoughtfully. A wise mind that came with experience and a different look on life. He knew what he was talking about and could actually see through James’ deflection. The soldier stopped at the threshold of the kitchen, eyeing him warily. He was an old man, just that, but he knew that something was bothering him. Something was on his mind, and he was dead on point with that assumption. It was clear that this man wasn’t an idiot, far from it.

“ _I had a son, Gustav. Much like you, he was strong, guarded, always in his own mind. He was a soldier_ ,” past-tense… he ‘ _had_ ’ a son, he ‘ _was_ ’ a soldier. James eyed him again, staying completely still as the old man looked down at his coffee, seeming to think. “ _Brave, thoughtful, kind… but he was obvious to me, when he was troubled… like you,_ ” James was only brave, thoughtful and kind when he was Bucky, and he hadn’t been that man in so many years. A lifetime ago.

He wouldn’t tell him. About HYDRA, about Bucky and James being the same person. About the ice and that he was brainwashed and forced to kill. He wouldn’t say a word of it, but a thought, a question was lingering in his mind, something that did relate to what was bothering him.

“...If you could change the past…” he switched back to English and paused, looking straight into the older mans’ eyes, staring without emotion. A flat gaze. “...would you?” Alaric stayed silent, watching him calculatingly with an old, wise gaze.

“It is not a question of ‘ _would_ ’... but a question of ‘ _should_ ’,” … _should_ he change the past. “Changing something now might not change what will happen. Some things are set in stone,” James dropped his eyes, slow and gradual until he was staring at the floor, listening to what was being said with a laser like focus. “It is life. Better to let it work alone than to change,”

“Theoretically…” he paused, looking back up to the man and seeing his attention focus on him, his coffee in hand. He was basically going to give himself away when he asked this, but he was hopeful and sure that he’d keep it to himself. “If something sent you back in time… would you _try_ to stop something bad from happening?”

If he gave himself away, Alaric didn’t say a word about it. Instead, he slowly nodded his head and drank the rest of his coffee, placing the cup down before standing. He never said a word, but he was sure that he now knew. He’d asked about the year when he first arrived, he hid his face, which was a give away to being suspicious, and he’d just spoke about time travel. It was all a huge give away and he was at the centre. But nothing was said, he stayed quiet. No questions, no picking-his-brain for information. This man was… he was understanding and didn’t seem to want anything from him.

“ _Let us get to work, yes?_ ” James watched him as he stepped passed, turning to eye him back with an old mans’ smile. He could only smile back and nod, turning away from the coffee and stepping back over to the couch to see the extra clothes sitting neatly on the coffee table. At least he had an idea of where these clothes actually came from. The old man was slightly smaller than him and they were about James’ size. The son, Gustav. They must’ve been around the same size and/or build. Alaric was allowing him to wear his son's clothes while he was there and he was hugely thankful to the man for this.

He changed quickly, slipping into the dark blue combat trousers and a faded purple long-sleeved shirt. The man also seemed to be aware that he liked his arm hidden. He was helping him with keeping it concealed. Though, it made him wonder on how many long-sleeved shirts Gustav might’ve had. He used a few of them so far and he hadn’t been aware of clothes being hung out to dry. James slipped on his boots, tucking the bottoms of the pants into them and then he tied the laces, putting a pair of worn gloves on right after. He then followed the man outside, pulling his mask up and over his face as he stepped through the door.

The soldier was aware that there were still bodies behind the barn, sure that a few people may have noticed them, but he hadn’t known that Alaric had been one of said people. They were heading right for it and not long after, he noticed the men gathered around the area after rounding the corner. They were carrying bodies, dragging them and taking them away. They were helping clear out the mess. Even a few soldiers were there, Bucky and Dugan were too… Had they known? That he’d been the one to kill them? If not, then they must’ve been called over to survey. They weren’t helping, nor were the other soldiers. They were watching, keeping a sharp eye on the townsfolk. It irritated him slightly. They were distrusting of them as they cleaned out their own home. James felt guilty for having left them there like that, but the soldiers coming into town had hindered his previous plan of hiding the bodies in ditches far from here. He hadn’t had the time.

“ _Sorry I left them here_ ,” he muttered to the old man as they got closer to the pile of bodies. Thankfully, it seemed like Bucky and Dugan were currently on duty. They hadn’t called to him and said nothing and he was sure that they knew he was there. And looking over his shoulder at his younger self only confirmed the assumption when he was thrown a smile and a lazy salute. He returned it and turned back to the bodies as they reached the piles and piles of them. There had been a few more than he originally thought. There weren’t many men here helping, but thankfully, there weren’t too many bodies either. A few short hours and the area would be void of corpses.

“ _Don’t be. Cleaning up will be a small chore compared to what you’ve done for us,_ ” he didn’t say a word to that, only huffed and reached out to grab the body, Alaric helping him by grabbing the legs and he reached under the shoulders. There were carts waiting, a few filled up and they made their way over, carrying the limp, dead human towards one. There was a man standing up in it, ready to manoeuvre the body into a secure position as soon as they swung him up onto the edge.

It went on like that for some time. Grabbing a body, taking it to a cart, grabbing a body, taking it to a cart. Over and over and over and he was feeling the early afternoon heat. James could feel the warmth making him sweat. The constant need for the long-sleeves were hindering him and he was warming up fast. A few of the men had taken their shirts off, along with a soldier or two.

Thankfully, women were coming around with cold drinks, Hannah being one of them and he and Alaric sat against one of the walls, a cup in hand while she stayed quiet and close to take the ups when they were done.

James downed the last of his and pushed himself to stand, handing her the empty glass with a polite ‘ _thank you_ ’. She seemed to be warming up to him, which he was happy with. He was fond of the two he was being housed by. She was a strong woman and Alaric was a very respectable man. After what the man had said that morning, it seemed to click in his mind as to why she was so distant with him. Alaric had mentioned that he and Gustav were similar in a few ways and that may be way she tried to distance herself from him.

“Hey! Kid!” James snapped his gaze around to where the voice came from and saw a child running towards him about a block away with a scared look on his face, a soldier chasing behind him with an irritated expression. The time travelling soldier quickly flipped a switch and he started power walking towards them, instinct taking charge. It wasn’t long before he reached them, a few short seconds and the kid was tackling his leg, his arms wrapping around his thigh and whimpering lightly, with the soldier reaching out for him with a still pissed look on his face. James then reached his own hand out and grabbed him, his wrist being held in a tight vice-like grip.

“Touch him and I’ll break it,” he squeezed to emphasize. The kids whimpering became the mans whimpering as he stared at him with a dark look and glared deeper, seeing the flash of fear in his face. He was trying to struggle out of the grip, but he couldn’t.

“Oka- okay, I won’t!” the guy panicked and James let go, watching as he was side-eyed while he rushed away. He’d definitely get shit for that. He’d messed with two soldiers now, to protect others. And if he remembered right, it wasn’t a smart move to pick fights with these men.

The soldier shrugged the thought off and reached down, grabbed the kids’ arms to lightly pry them from his thigh. He crouched down and eyed the boy, looking him over as he was still a little scared. He was panting and running his gaze all over him, like he wasn’t sure what to do. James decided to go with casual at this point.

“ _Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?_ ” he asked the boy in his language, watching him frantically shake his head and then suddenly grin at him. He was quickly reaching for his pocket and then pulled out a folded piece of paper, slightly worn looking and it was thrusted into his chest by the excited boy. James was confused at this point and he just held it in his hand, looking up to the boy for a split second before using both hands to unfold it, his eyes opening a little wider at seeing the picture on the inside.

“ _You drew this?_ ” he smiled faintly behind his mask, the amusement slipping through into his tone as he looked over the poorly drawn image. Obviously, it was a kids drawing. But he was thankful for it. _It’s the thought that counts_.

A man wearing black, had long hair and was wearing a mask was standing in the centre of multiple square boxes, to which he assumed were houses, with a few bodies dressed in green with swastikas on their arms and they were lying there surrounded by circles of red crayon. The Nazis he killed. It seems the word spread fast that he was the one that killed them. A few of them had already known that he’d killed them because they had seen him dart out and kill a few Nazi. But for the kids to now know meant that the entire town might know about what he’d done. The soldiers would know soon.

He glanced to see the nodding, a beaming grin on his face as he stared at James. “ _No one’s ever drawn me anything before,_ ” he muttered quietly to himself, knowing the boy could hear and he did, by the sounds of the happy gasp and flailing arms.

“ _Really?_ ” he hummed in reply, affirming his statement.

“ _You’re the first,_ ” he smiled wider behind the mask and glanced back down at the image, looking over it again before folding it in his hands and looking back up at the boy. “ _Thank you. I’m Jamie,_ ” he said softly and de-gloved his flesh hand to hold it out to the boy. It was instantly being shook, the kid now awed and really excited.

“ _Ralf, my name is Ralf_ ,”

“ _It’s a pleasure. Thank you so much, Ralf,_ ” he didn’t shake or anything after that. He saw a woman heading towards them, coming from where the boy had earlier and he stood up, picture in hand and turned the boy around. He walked them in her direction and gave him a little shove. Ralf gave him an excited wave before running off towards her, the lady giving him a gentle smile before he turned around and stared down at the picture as he made his way back over to Alaric. He ignored the slightly stiff expressions he received from the soldiers, Bucky and Dugan included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter. I'm going to try and get as many up as I can because I need to finish them. I really want to get into two sequels, but I can't with these on-goings lingering around. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a mentally emotional chapter here, something thinking needed as well. I hope you enjoy :)

Bucky was still on duty, thankfully. It meant that there’d be less time spent together for the moment. During ‘clean up’, he’d thought deeply on what Alaric had said, that it was a matter of ‘ _should_ ’ he change the past, than a matter or ‘ _would_ ’. He was still stumped, still stuck on what he should do. On one hand, if he changed nothing, he’d be with Steve again, trying to rekindle their friendship after everything that happened. Yes, he’d still be the wanted Winter Soldier, but he’d have his best friend back, a man that loved him like a brother and would help him if he just asked, though he didn’t even need to. The help was just given if he recounted the last few days spent before he was sent back in time. He had a few others too, after that battle. Hawkeye, Ant-Man, Scarlet Witch… Falcon, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He was a jackass, but their interactions were that of two people reluctantly getting along for one man. James didn’t care, he was gaining more friends through this and even if his life at the moment was terrible, it’d only get better from there. He hoped.

And then, on the other hand… he wouldn’t have to go through what HYDRA forced on him. He wouldn’t kill anyone under their order. He wouldn’t be tortured or brainwashed until he was screaming his throat raw from nightmares and just in general. He wouldn’t be in so much pain and he’d be as happy as he was before HYDRA made their appearance. He wouldn’t be the weapon they wanted and wouldn’t have to cry himself to sleep after so many nightmares of memories coming back after the fall in DC. He could be happy and live with himself, as a Howling Commando. He could get himself a beautiful woman and maybe have a child… He could be Bucky again. He wasn’t sure if that meant that this version of himself would disappear, but he’d be happy again. That was all he wanted, above all else. A nice apartment, a smile, friends, Dugan, Monty, Morita, Gabe, Dernier, hell, even Phillips… and Steve. The weak, little, stubborn, scrawny guy from Brooklyn that wouldn’t back down from a fight. And it was supposed to be during this year that he’d be experimented on with the Super-Serum. He remembered it from the files he was given when Captain Rogers was his mission.

He was glad that Bucky was on duty, because he was afraid that spending more time with the man would sway his decision making. Yes, it was _him_ , or used to be, but from his perspective, he was a man of his own and seeing him as such a down to earth, happy, loving and well loved man… he couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go through what HYDRA had forced him through, just to become the Winter Soldier all over again. It was heartbreaking and he could feel the sting of hate returning, making him think that he should stop Bucky from getting on that train. And from getting caught by HYDRA not long from now.

If he was on the metaphorical fence, he’d be leaning more towards saving his younger self… or ‘ _younger brother_ ’ in this odd case. He was still mildly surprised that the man believed him so easily, about his story and similarity. He didn’t recall being that gullible, or naive. Which set him slightly on guard now that he thought about it. Bucky believed him too easily. He’d never been that trusting or believing. If it were James, his first step would’ve been…

… He would’ve attempted to get close from curiosity and then found out as much as he could.

“... Fuck,” he whispered quietly to himself. That was exactly what Bucky had done. He was smarter than he gave him credit for. How had he let him get that close? Thinking on it, he was sure that Bucky didn’t actually believe him, his story, his lies. He must’ve known that there was something off about him. And throw in that he saw him actually _scare_ a soldier just by holding his wrist and threatening him. All of this would seem too odd and out of place to anyone.

He was being cautious, playing dumb and naive. He was messing with him and making James believe that he believed every damn word he said.

Things were getting serious. He could probably still pretend to seem oblivious of Bucky in that regard, but he’d have to make a move at some point. He’d have to find out what exactly he knew and/or thought of him. Tonight, he had patrol with Dugan. The first quarter of the night was their walk around. So James could easily skulk and separate them so he can get the information. It wouldn’t do to have the two there and he couldn’t round on him while they were in Hannah and Alaric's house. It would be disrespectful and he’d rather not let them watch or listen to them while he questioned Bucky.

James felt a hand pat his shoulder and he whirled around to face the old man, gesturing him back to the house. They were finished with the cadavers, having helped take them away. It wasn’t completely clear, but a little more work and it’d be fine and like it used to be. He’d help with that too. But as of right now, a bath would be nice, or he could wipe himself down with a wet cloth. As long as he got rid of his sweat, he couldn’t have cared less.

They made their way back to the house, James only having sent a friendly nod towards Bucky as they took their leave. It wasn’t long before they were back inside, the windows open to let in air. It was unsurprisingly warm, making everyone heat up too much. Alaric took the bath and James let him without saying a word. He’d stepped into the kitchen, holding a thick cloth under cold water. Hannah had left it there for him and gave him some privacy before he could take his shirt off, mask as well and he wiped his upper body down, sighing calmly as it dampened his warmth and cooled his down. He’d jump in the bath after Alaric, he just needed a way to take away the heat and that was what the cloth was for.

He lifted it above his head and squeezed, feeling the cold water dripping fast and cooling his skull through the thick hair, and then it streamed down his face. The soldier dropped the cloth in the sink and shook his head lightly, reaching for his shirt that he’d left on the table top. It was then that heard the door knock, Hannahs’ footstep striding through the living room until she was at the door, and then there was muffled talking, to which he listened out for. Bucky was at the door, Dugan too by the sounds of the voices. There were more footsteps and she was standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

“ _Oh my!-_ ” James’ eyes widened and then he realized he hadn’t put the shirt on. He snapped a finger up to his mouth to shush her and then threw on his shirt at the rushing footsteps.

“What? What’s wrong?” Bucky came around the corner right after James put the shirt on and hid his hand behind his back, the metal one. Dugan was right behind him and they stared into the kitchen at him.

“Nothing, I just surprised her. I _was_ out back,” he replied smoothly, messing with the glove he managed to grab. He slipped it on and relaxed. He was sure that they noticed something was off, but he’d acted casual enough that he’d hoped they were second guessing themselves. “ _Sorry you had to see that,_ ” thankfully, the other two in the room didn’t speak German, otherwise this would’ve been awkward. “What’d you two need?” he casually stepped passed the slightly stunned woman and led the two into the living room, taking them away from the scene.

He crossed his arms and watched them, the two seeming a little disbelieving of what he’d said. They were scrutinizing him for the moment.

“We’ve got orders. We’re moving at dawn,” to the next town, he’d assume. Dugan had been the one to speak and he took a step towards him. “Are you with us? Or against us?” what? James stared at them with a creased brow, glancing between them. He didn’t say a word, trying to pick his words carefully, but Bucky got there first.  

“We asked around, the ones that could speak English told us that a guy with long, dark hair, black clothes, a mask and a silver arm saved them. I don’t know about the silver arm, but you’re the only one that wears a mask with long, dark hair,”

“Bucky,” James snapped his eyes to Dugan, a cold feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as he picked up the picture that the boy made for him. They stared at it, brows furrowing and they glanced up to him, the redhead eyeing his completely covered arm.

Guess they were questioning him right here. There were several interrogations he could think of that would lead to distrust or guarded questions and accusations. This was one. They were trying to find out which side he was on from what the townsfolk told them. And now, they were asking directly.

“Silver arm,” the bigger man turned the picture around slowly, as if to show that they had evidence. James stayed as calm as ever, his heartbeat regular, his breathing never picked up and he didn’t sweat or flinch, his training kicked in automatically. He’d half to lie again, maybe he could add some truths to his words. His actions with the Nazis were a bust, they knew that he’d killed them now and the suspicion was high because of it.

“It’s an advanced prosthesis,” he corrected casually, keeping his arms defensively crossed over his broad, strong chest. The two shared a look for a moment and he just watched as Bucky glanced at him, eyeing him over. He wouldn’t admit that he actually felt a pang of guilt for leading him on and telling him lies only to be stared at with so much distrust. James wouldn’t make the excuse that he’d been protecting him from the truth. He’d been saving his own ass from having to tell them who and what he was. Though, he had technically thought of protecting him by saving him from the train.

“Show us,” Dugan blurted bluntly, his attitude spoilt and demanding. He actually scoffed and shook his head. He wouldn’t show him. Not unless it was by accident, like Alaric and Hannah.

“No,” he replied simply, his posture seeming calm even though his muscles were tensing and clenching under his skin. This was going to go bad. He had the feeling in the back of his mind that this wouldn’t end as well as he’d wanted it to.

“Why not?” Bucky joined in, taking a step closer on the other end of the coffee table. This was the Sergeant coming out in him, a man he remembered somewhere in the back of his mind. He remembered the authority he’d had, the rank, the respect. He remembered having all of that because he was a damn fine soldier. The exact opposite of who he was at the moment. A damn great soldier, but for the bad reasons and he was damaged.

“Because my secrets are my own,” he’d almost bit out, his body tightening further as his brows knitted and dipped down in the centre. He was feeling the taut tension shooting through him and he didn’t like the faint frustration in his tone, the irritation and hate seeping in. He was gradually getting worked up.

“Trust is a big thing between us men here,” which he lacked. He had major trust issues, and he also knew that Dugan hadn’t been lying with that statement. Trust was a majorly huge thing with these soldiers.

“You want to know if I’m on your side, I am, but I’m not telling you anything that has any relation as to how I got this arm or how I could take down a troop of Nazis overnight,” he replied adamantly, his posture becoming tighter and more guarded as they seconds passed. He was getting antsy and too involved in this time, with these men. He needed to get out of there before he really screwed something up.

“Then how can we believe you? Or even trust you?” Bucky asked with some emotion. It wasn’t a flat question like the ones Dugan had been asking, his younger self was actually genuinely putting emotion into his words. He wanted to believe him?

“I don’t care if you believe a word I say or not,” James’ voice softened just a bit, but he still wasn’t calm. He needed to get out of there, needed some time to himself to think and get an idea on what the hell he should do and what he shouldn’t. “I just don’t want to have to tell you everything that physically and mentally scarred me,” he shrugged casually, still trying to calm himself down with them noticing that he was actually flustering on the inside. “I’m on your side, I’ll fight with you, but don’t ask questions about me specifically,” James reached out and carefully plucked the picture from Dugans’ hand, taking a glance at the crayon image before folding it, pocketing it and heading around them towards the door.

“Wait!” he actually reluctantly paused at Bucky’s word, though he didn’t look his way. “Does that mean you’re with us? You’ll come with tomorrow?” he frantically nodded and then headed out the door, closing it behind him and he rushed off, heading straight for the cornfield. Thankfully, there was enough cover there to drop to his knees and take an audible breath, like he hadn’t been breathing since they’d entered the house. He panted roughly, his hand reaching up to cover his mouth to muffle the noise and he dropped his head forward, still panting harshly.

This was too screwed up for him, and it was the Winter Soldier thinking it. _It had to be screwed up for him to actually say it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hope so. What'd you think? What was your favourite part? I sort of liked the part where Bucky asked if he would be going with them near the end :) It was fun to write :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to progress the story fast and slow at the same time, to try and balance things out and let you guys enjoy it all :) So there may be a few time skips in here too. I hope you enjoy :)

It was dark out, night having fallen a while ago and James was out in the rain again, like when he first appeared there in 1943. It was pissing down and he was drenched again, only having the trees just outside of the town as shelter. He didn’t want to go back, not yet, not while he was still inwardly flustered and panicking about all of this.

He was actually scared, his heart was hammering, his thoughts were reeling and he couldn’t stop thinking about the train. James had technically accepted an offer to go with them, to fight with them, and just over a handful of months from now, he’d be watching his younger self zip-wire down onto the very train that he fell from. He didn’t want to see that. He didn’t want it to happen. He couldn’t let it happen, but… What was he supposed to do? All the thinking was starting to stress him out and he couldn’t just watch as he falls from it again. He couldn’t watch Steve try to save him again only to watch him fall.

James was starting to hope that he somehow managed to get back to 2016 soon. He hoped that maybe Steve found a way to bring him back before he was forced to choose between saving Bucky and letting him fall.

He sucked in a breath and panted lightly, trying to calm himself down. He was more relaxed than before, but he just constantly questioned himself. Should he, or shouldn’t he. It was putting him on edge and his nerves were shaking because he didn’t want to have to choose. He didn’t know what the outcome would be, if he died or not, or if he ever saw Steve again, if he ever saw the future and SHIELD and HYDRA. He was just hurting himself at this point. So much thinking, so much doubt and self-loathing.

James growled and spun around, sending his clenched tight metal fist into the thick tree with a spark of anger lingering. His entire hand was in the tree with a chunk of it flying off a few feet from him. The trunk was severely dented and splinted now, dark wood now surrounding a light brown hole.

“Flash,” he knitted his brow at the soft call, his mind automatically returning to his training before joining the War. He let a sigh slip his lips and he turned to the quiet but identical voice.

“Lightning,” he answered, pulling his fist from the gaping hole he’d made. James heard the bushes and shrubbery rustling, telling him that they were coming out of hiding and he turned to see both Bucky and Dugan standing there. He’d rather not accuse them of stalking, but that was exactly what they’d done. They’d been following him, keeping a safe distance while they’d put other men on patrol.

He didn’t actually care too much about that. He was more concerned with his thoughts. James was inwardly conflicted about all of it and he didn’t know what to do, though he was tempted to talk with Alaric again. His wiseness and response was something he actually took a mild comfort in hearing. He’d helped a little and now he had a better idea of everything. But it still didn’t give him an answer.

“Why’re you lurking in the woods when you have a perfectly good bed back in town,” Dugan questioned him stiffly, probably having actually _seen_ him make the hole. No normal guy with normal strength could dent it like that.

“Why’re you following me around when you should be on patrol,” he countered, turning directly towards them. Bucky actually seemed at odds, like he didn’t want a part of this. So maybe the stalking had been Dugans’ doing, his idea. “Slacking on your duties, don’t you think?” he crossed his arms over his chest, taking a little victory in seeing the pissed twitchy mannerism in the mans’ face. “Why’re you stalking me,” was his next demanded question. He eyed them, seeing the clenching in Bucky's’ jaw when he’d asked. He clearly felt off about being there. Be it shame, embarrassment of being caught or just plain hate that he was put up to being there, he didn’t care.

“When I get suspicious, I just can’t shake it,”

“Enough, take a walk,” Bucky suddenly spoke up, completely tense and guarded with a frustrated knit in his browline. He was irritated, pissed even. “That’s an order,” he added when Dugan didn’t move. There was a slight jerk in his posture and he reluctantly left, but not before sending a glare James’ way and then stalking off into the woods. He was mildly surprised at how fast Bucky had broken them up. Not even a few sentences and they were separated.

“Show it to me,” he snapped his head to Bucky, seeing the dead serious look in his face. It almost shook his nerves to see how much similar they looked. The dark eyes, serious expression and mild anger in his face. He looked older, a little bit more dangerous. He looked like James. “C’mon, glove off,” he ordered again. The soldier knitted his eyebrows and stared at him, being reluctant to obey, but the younger man slipped his gun over his shoulder and sauntered up to him, no jokes or words said as he grabbed his left forearm and lifted it. James didn’t even fight when he grabbed the glove at pulled it off. He wanted to, felt like he should’ve resisted. Everything he’d said earlier, about not asking questions about him and how he’d gotten the arm and how he’d taken down the troop overnight. It was gone in a matter of seconds as it was slipped off of his metal hand and the moonlight made it glint, shining dimly between them.

He didn’t seem scared, only curious as he thumbed at the knuckles and over the back of the hand, feeling along the thin plate that actually _made_ the back of it. He looked like a child trying to read a new, and exciting book. He seemed completely enveloped by the appearance and feel of the impenetrable material.

James could see him _listening_ as well, the very, _very_ faint whir of the neural wires and feeds that were connecting to every nerve on the inside, the way they almost silently www’d behind the metal outter cover. It was the reason that Bucky had been unaware as he’d shifted closer, still fingering the hand and wrist with the thrumming taking his attention. He seemed so content to listen and feel that James had mimicked him, gradually beginning to focus on the quiet noise. But instead of messing with his arm, he focused on his past self, watching the way his he shifted slightly or how his breathing changed and how his eyes roamed the hand. He could feel the warmth pulsing through him as he watched, the fond hyper-observance catching detail and he was feeling the fondness gradually grow until the thought of the train suddenly hit him again.

Attached, he was getting attached.

He cleared his throat and reluctantly took his hand back, the glove too and he covered the metal up. He tried not to seem like he’d been dazing, but his current posture and gaze showed it clearly. Bucky could see that he was out of it. Distraction. He needed to distract and deflect.

“Why did you want me to come with you, anyway,” he saw a brow rise questioningly at him, as if asking to elaborate. It was a simple question… “You show up at the house and suddenly ask me if I’m on your side and if I’ll go with you. What gave you the idea that I could even fight with you? I’m not one of your soldiers,”

“Oh, that was actually a conversation between a load of us guys. We all voted on it,” James raised a brow this time, his thoughts blank while listening as they started a slow walk to… wherever Bucky was going. “I didn’t think anything of any of this when I first met you, just thought that it was one hellofa coincidence that we looked identical that you were here of all places. It seriously caught me off guard,”

“You and me both,” he let a casual smirk slip onto his face, Bucky returning one himself, a little wider and his actually met his eyes.

“Anyway, after the initial inner freak out, what Dugan said when he first saw us together got me thinking. We just happened to find each other during WWII, in Normandy where I was stationed. A guy that looks exactly like me appears in some old town that isn’t even on a map and can take down a shit-ton of badguys in one night. It’s impossible to believe, even with the proof,” he gestures to him, all of him, waving his arm up and down in his direction. “It sounds like some superhero comic book came to life. Hell, surprised there aren’t any about you. Or maybe there are and I just haven’t seen them. You got a hero name?” he had an anti-hero name… did that count? Anti- _hero_.

James shrugged and let a huff leave his lips.

“People called me the Winter-Soldier,” and he suddenly realized his mistake… he’d just opened a door to millions of thoughts buzzing through Bucky’s head when he sent a grin his way, like a boy who’d just been invited into a heroes club.

Why did he have to open his mouth...

“What’s your superpower? What’s your back-story? How’d you get them? Do you have a companion? Like a dog or something? Your arm clearly has some super-strength there, is that it?” Wow.... James raised a brow and gave him a slightly fond, and amused smirk. It made him realize just how young he’d been. Twenty-nine wasn’t old. He was still a kid in a way, a young adult that’d still get excited over something as simple as a wild thought. And in this time and place, something exciting was what they’d need. So, he cleared his throat and shook his head, deciding to just roll with it.

“I was trained in Russia. I can pick up any weapon and now how to use it. I have enhanced strength, speed, durability, stamina, agility, reflexes, and a regenerative healing factor. I’m a master in a shit-ton of different martin-arts and hand-to-hand combat. I trained in Knife Mastery. I’m a master marksman, assassin and acrobat. I’m multilingual and an expert pilot,”

“So, you’re basically a war machine?” Starks’ friend, that military man...

“I’d go with ‘ _walking tank_ ’,” he didn’t actually believe that this was real, he was sure that Bucky was just making it all up with him for fun. He wasn’t sure if he should set it straight and actually tell him that none of this was fake, that he was the Winter Soldier and really had all the abilities he’d mentioned. But it’d open an even bigger door to ‘ _how all this could be possible_ ’. And if this was overheard, it could spread between everyone and he’d end up being known and he was sure that it’d catch Starks attention- _Howard_ Stark.

All of this was pointing against telling him, but he still had the option of telling the truth, half the truth, the only difference being that he’d have to explain a fake version of their relation, that maybe he was a grandson, or Son, considering the age. He could make out that Bucky had a son in his later years, like Howard with Tony. He’d have to be old to have him, slightly older than Howard.

Again, it was all pointing against telling him, but he was unsure if Bucky would find out either way. There was half a chance that everything would come out eventually and he’d be on the end of a scowl or betrayed expression. He didn’t want that.

“Why’d you choose Russia? Why not say Germany or France? I mean, that’s where we are,” the sentence confirmed that he was, indeed, taking this as some made up fun and he took a quiet breath at it, sighing slightly. It was unbelievable, all of it and that was why he was treating it as some joke.

He was trained in a highly fortified building in Russia, tortured, trained and broken until he was nothing but a reprogrammable robot, a thing meant to kill, terminate and make it either look like an accident and/or make it seem like he wasn’t even there. A ghost, a killer, an impenetrable machine that couldn’t die and was the man of nightmares to everyone that knew the name Winter Soldier. He scared other assassins, was the peak of danger and death and could take anyone out without them knowing.

He was a monster in human form. A mass of destruction fitted into a human body. A danger to everyone and everything around him.

“Because I _was_ trained in Russia,” he’d said it, gradually stopping and looking at the ground a few feet ahead of him. He slowly lifted his gaze to the casually laid back man, seeing the brow raise and hearing the scoff through the grin on his face.

“Trained in Russia, in 2016?” he teased, mocked, joked. Whatever, he could take the mockery and joking. He couldn’t have cared less about any of it. He only nodded, because it was in the 2000’s that he was freed, he escaped.

“Until 2014, yeah,” he replied with a serious expressed, so dead serious that the grin slowly grew and he laughed, just a few simple chuckles.

“Yeah, and like I said, I’m one of Starks Go-,”

“-Go-go girls. May as well put a skirt on,” he crossed his arms, staying completely still as he eyed the questioning and mildly confused frown growing on his features. “It’s all real, everything I just told you. The abilities, Winter Soldier, being trained in Russia. The tech for my arm hasn’t even been discovered yet. The entire limb is made from a mix of Vibranium and Adamantium. One of those metals hasn’t even made it to earth yet,” he was pretty sure. He’d read a file on James Logan, Wolverine, and he was sure that there was still a really long time until that metal hit the planet.

“And you’re really from 2016,” Bucky made it sound more like a disbelieving statement than anything else, and it hurt slightly, though he couldn’t blame him. James had been oblivious and not so trusting in these times. He remembered that. “So what, you’re my grandson or something? Fuck off,” and with that, Bucky stormed off, walking away with an uncertain and irritated posture.

James was left standing there, knowing that Bucky would really, seriously be thinking about all this. There was so much evidence that he wasn’t normal and even _he_ thought that it made much more sense with the suggestion of time travel. He hoped that Bucky wouldn’t abandon the thought and him completely because he’d pushed the gesture and idea of being able to shift through years and years.

The soldier would have to expand his own story if Bucky had more questions. He’d have to wait until he woke up. He was sure that he’d have more dreams from his younger self's’ perspective. Maybe he could get an idea on how to approach too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? What was your favourite part? I really liked writing Bucky and James when he was listening and feeling the arm. James telling Bucky that he was from 2016 too, the whole talk around it until Bucky cursed and walked off. James was a champ for taking that from himself, damn.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize ahead of time. I wrote a majority of this chapter on my phone since I was out of the house for most of this week. I managed to find a freaking G+ word doc app which was awesome. It's the app I use on my pc to write my stories :) So, just saying, there may be a shit-ton of mistakes later on in the chapter. Just a forewarning.

Buckys’ reaction was expected, he’d waited for that disbelieving ‘fuck off’ that was thrown his way. It didn’t make it hurt less though. The sting of his younger self not believing a word he’d said. There were pros and cons to the situation now. Cons’ being that Bucky probably wouldn’t be as open and nice as he had been before James had told him, he’d be guarded and probably wouldn’t make as many jokes as before. The pros’ were that there was a strong possibility that there’d be no questions or prying into his life or talk about the future. There’s be no complicated questions on when or how he ended up there and why he was just a damaged man. There’d be no parental concern that his son had been in HYDRA hands.

They could just go back to subtle talk and banter and be as distant as before. It’d also help James decided on whether to save him or not. He’d still been stuck with the choice and hadn’t gotten the time to continue his chat with Alaric.

The man was currently helping him. He’d bagged an extra set of clothes, mostly long sleeves and a couple of cargo pants. He’d put them in his duffle that had been previously emptied so James could gear up again. He was back to wearing his Winter Soldier gear, but he’d tore the right sleeve off so he could wear a mossy green, long sleeve under it. He had his weapons at the ready, knives hidden, two guns, a pistol and MP-40. The MB grenades were safely tucked away as well. He was ready to leave, but was told to hang back just for a few seconds, Hannah working her way back out of the kitchen with a foiled up bag. A packed lunch? He’d raised a brow at her as she tucked it on top of the folded clothes and she’d zipped it up and turned to him with a wavering smile.

“ _Be safe_ ,” he nodded with an empty expression, trying not to show that he was actually a tad disappointed with leaving. He wasn’t even sure why he was even going with them, apart from choosing between saving or letting Bucky fall. He was unsure.

“ _I will,_ ” he replied, eyeing her carefully as she seemed uncertain for a moment and then shifted forward to give him a fast hug. He’d shakily returned it and then turned to Alaric as she walked away to the kitchen. The man crookedly smiled and strongly patted his back and brought him into another hug. They hadn’t known each other long, and he wasn’t sure why he was getting this much affection, but he was thankful that he was getting said affection instead of scared glances and avoidance. This could’ve gone a lot worse. What if they’d been scared and sent him away the very first night?

“ _If you really **are** from when you think you are, be very careful of your actions. I find that life has many different affects, time is no different. If it is not already set in stone, then there’s a butterfly effect. Be careful, James_,” he nodded thoughtfully at his words, a frown gradually making its way across his features.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he spoke softly, his expression growing softer again. “ _For everything_ ,” he eyed them both, catching the soft, familial feeling coming off of them as he reached for his bag and swung it over his shoulders. He gave them a smile and turned away, heading over to the door with the two gradually following him.

He opened the door and stepped out, shock instantly stunning his face and body. About half of the town was there, all spread around the area of the house where he was stepping out of. They were staring, smiling, kids crying, men holding their wives and the mothers and wives were holding their family tight. A few were waving as he stepped further out, a few kids trying to pull from their parents and wanting to get closer to him.

“ _Thank you_ ,” “ _You saved us_ ,” “ _Stay safe,_ ” “ _Be careful_ ,” “ _We love you_ ,” “ _Come back alive_ ,” and many more kind words were sent his way from the families. They were cheering him on and giving thanks and all he could really do was stare and try not to beam a smile from so much love he seemed to be receiving. The townsfolk were incredible and he should be thanking them for the hospitality and affection and smiles he was given. He felt so welcomed, something he hadn’t felt in so long.

He couldn’t say anything, he only let a soft smile slip his lips and directed it at them, the smile actually reaching his eyes. A genuine feeling that was all but rare to him. For the first time in so long, he felt happy.

James hadn’t said a word as he reluctantly headed away from the house, giving Alaric and Hannah a second glance over his shoulder and waving, turning on everyone else as he waved again, and then turned away, not wanting to feel the sadness creeping up on him as he turned the corner and made his way up the street, noting the figure leaning against the house a block away.

Bucky was waiting on him, hiding at the corner away from the crowds of people. The soldier turned his head at James’ intentionally  audible bootsteps and gave him a crooked, groggy grin, a grin that hadn’t reached his eyes, probably from what happened the night before. He wouldn’t blame him. It had been James that had brought it on and told him. They’d just be distant, he hoped. He enjoyed the banter and enjoyed talking with him and sharing a joke, so hopefully, he hadn’t screwed anything up between them.

“So, what am I to you? Pop’ or Grandpappy?” he was flat-humouring, using dry-humour to make some conversation between them. James just eyed him, looking him up and down before turning away to continue walking. From the sounds of the footfalls, the slight skip scuffing the dirt told him that Bucky moved to catch up as he walked passed.

“I’ll answer that when you believe me,” he replied flatly as they headed up the street together, almost shoulder to shoulder, and Bucky actually shoulder bumped him, now using his trademark lazy smirk on him.

“C’mon,” he drew out the word. “You have to admit that it sounds stupidly unbelievable,” James stopped in his tracks, turning to look at Bucky as he stopped right next to him with a not-so-serious expression on his face. He looked like he was having a hard time believing, but was still making jokes about it. Probably to tease him.

“I know it sounds stupid, but I’m not lying,” James stared at him flatly, watching as the smirk started to thin out and disappear.

“Fine, whatever. Theoretically, if I believed all this. How’d you get here and why? You here to tell us something? Do we win the war?” the war was far bigger than just Bucky, so telling him that they did wouldn’t actually have any impact on anything. So, he could tell him, but he’d have to make sure that he told no one else. But he couldn’t tell him everything, like details of Zola.

“You win,” he shrugged, watching a very victorious smile grace his lips and he made a gesture, fistpump? “And I already told you how I got here. That glowing stone. Zemo hit me with it and I ended up face-first in dirt a few miles from here,” he muttered thoughtfully, thinking back on what happened. He’d remembered the fight with Ironman after he saw what had happened with his parents and then he was glowing and was eating wet mud.

“So, you’re here by accident? One hell ofa coincidence ending up near the town we were called to,” Bucky pocketed his free hand, the other holding his gun at his side. He seemed serious now, both looking at him with thought and consideration. Maybe he was actually thinking about what he was saying. “Hey, maybe it just sent you to wherever you wanted to be,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders like James had done.

“Maybe. Maybe if I get back I can talk to Stark and Stev-ie,” shit, he’d been about to say Steve.

“Whoa, Stevie?” crap. “I got a friend named Steve,”

“Yeah, I know. Steve Rogers,” he tried to keep the uncertainty out of his voice as he agreed. He had to get himself out of this one. Maybe he could somehow work this out so Steve was related to Captain America in this time. Well, he’d still be the scrawny punk right now, so… “Stevie Rogers, he’s the same generation as me,” he noted how Bucky’s eyes widened for a few seconds, staring at him like he was excited and saw something he really wanted. A kid in a candy store with a 2 hundred dollar bill.

It was now or later, though he’d probably believe him more as of right now. “You’re my dad,”

“No fuckin’ wa-, you’re thirty-two! I’m twenty-nine! I’d had to have been-,” the Sergeant stopped to think, counting down in his head and suddenly using his hands. He actually seemed stuck while trying to math it all out in his head.

“Sixty-seven?” he supplied, knowing his math was right. James would’ve been born in 1984, making Bucky sixty-seven.

“Yeah! I’m an old-ass man when I’d have you! Why? Why’d it take me that long?” Bucky asked, suddenly concerned. And it actually threw James for a second. He was worried about having a son at such an old age. And it wasn't even an actual thing. It was all a lie.

“I can’t tell you that,” he replied flatly again, shrugging his shoulders before starting to walk again. He could see Bucky noticing his movement and he knew that he was following as they continued down the street. “I’d be screwing with the timeline. I already am by being here,” he really didn't know if he was. He remembered Alaric saying that in some cases things were set in stone and some things weren't.  So he wasn't too sure if he was actually screwing with things. We're the recent memories a sign that he was? If he did get back, he'd have to talk with Stark, regardless of if he turned him away for what he'd done to his parents…

There was a chance of talking with Howard from this time, but time travel was only a fantasy. A wild imagination and desire that hadn’t been done. He could ask theoretical questions maybe.

“Seriously! Wait! That means that Steve had his own kid around the same tim-, no, how old is Stevie?” Bucky seemed to be really asking at this point. He wasn’t just curious or asking to humour James. He was genuinely curious and wanted to know. It reached his eyes.

”I can’t tell you,” he repeated with a gradually raising brow. It really did seem like he was starting to believe him, regardless of his ‘theoretically’ comment before. He wasn’t completely sure, but he was leaning more towards Bucky actually believing him now.

“What ‘can’ you tell me?” he waved his arms, as if gradually getting exasperated by everything that James wasn't telling him. The soldier bit the inside of his lips and turned the next corner, catching sight of the group up ahead. The troops and trucks. He swiftly pulled his mask up over his face and took a breath. He was really going with them. He was temporarily going to be a soldier of WWII again.

“Not a lot,” he replied with a light shake of his head. He gave Bucky a side glance as they got closer and the thought of being back in the fight, being back in 1943 as a soldier. Nostalgia grew, warming him. He didn't feel like the Winter Soldier, or the man after being the Winter Soldier.  He wasn’t too sure who he was in this now, but this, _THIS_ felt normal to him. He felt at ease and calm and he knew how to do what he was about to do. This was in his capability. He could do this and not be judged.

The only judgement he'd probably get would be on his skills with weaponry.

“I shouldn't be telling you anything,” he deadpanned with a knitted brow. James shouldn't have even met his younger self, let alone speak and talk about the time he came from. 2016 was way too far into advanced technology and biology. Hell, Howard would die from shock of how far the world had gotten. He may even have a heart attack just from looking over his arm. The neural technology and brain and cooling system was perfectly implanted. It was exactly like his right, but made of metal.

“C’mon. When would anyone get another chance like this?” Bucky smirked crookedly at him. Clearly he wasn’t taking the matter seriously, even though he seemed to start believing him about the whole time travel thing and the lie that he was his son.

“Doesn't change that if i tell you something too important I could change _anything_ ,” he shrugged.

“Still, it's pretty great that I met you,” he seemed to muse to himself, even if he directed the statement at James. “My son… Wow… I guess ‘ _theoretical_ ’ turned ‘ _real’_ a few seconds ago,” Bucky admitted with a shaky chuckle, his hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

He’d admit to himself that he felt guilt for lying to him about the relation between them. He seemed happy and enthusiastic about it and James was lying so easily. Hopefully he could keep it up until he managed to find a way back. He'd stick to pretending to be his son until then.

“So you believe me now?” he asked quietly as they reached the rest of the group.

“I guess I'll have to if you're sticking around,” he chuckled and patted his shoulder fondly. James let a light smile slip his lips under the mask, knowing that it wouldn't be seen. He liked this, being treated like a friend, a comrade. It felt good, better than the caution that was aimed at him by Steve and the rest of the Avengers. He'd seen that Steve tried to hide that emotion from him, but James had seen right through him.

“I'll warn you now. If you start calling me sonny, lad, boy or any variation of those names, I won't hesitate to drop you,” he warned with a smirk, obviously not being completely serious.

“I was actually thinking of calling you Canon, but I might start calling you Son now,” he cackled. James paused and eyed him, raising a brow to show that he needed some form of elaboration. Canon. It was just Buchanan without the ‘Bu’. So why that name? He didn't know that they had the same name and obviously knew that he didn't even have one, to Bucky’s knowledge anyway.

“Why Canon?” he asked simply, actually staring at him.

“Jamie Buchanan Barnes. Has a ring to it, and none of the nicknames I was thinking of fit, so I thought we could share. My nickname comes from the first half of Buchanan, so you can have the last. Canon,” James just scoffed at him, watching as he seemed to justify himself. And he even seemed happy with himself for coming up with the name. He'd admit that it… sort of sounded good to him. Canon. It was better than _Lucky_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd you think? Enjoy? What was your favourite part!? I really liked the bottom half, where they were getting into the conversation and James tells him that he's his son and Bucky freaks a little. Www and the nickname, Bucky sharing his middle name so James could be called Chanan. :) What did you think of that by the way? Was it too odd? Or did it fit nicely? I don't know, it was just a spur of the moment idea :/


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, forewarning. 
> 
> I skipped a little to keep things interesting. Hopefully you like it. A bit of bonding and talking and not so nice feeling. But there's a present there for you.

James snapped awake, shooting up from the bed until he was up straight, suddenly standing and surveying the room like every other night before found his damn apartment. He searched, looking around frantically and subtly shifting from the edge of the bed until he was up against the wall, back facing it so he had his six covered.

He was in a broken room, all busted up and burnt in places. It was a mess with three makeshift beds spread around, up against walls. The two were empty.

He frowned and swallowed thickly, taking in air calmly and controllingly. He wasn’t sure of… anything right now. He didn’t remember much, but there were memories. He remembered being on the road leaving the town, he remembered having to use the guns he stole. He remembered being by Bucky’s side and shooting, ducking and changing the magazine of his weapon. James also remembered swapping patrol recently. Last night? He was swapped from Bucky to Berger for an earlier patrol and Dugan and Bucky took a shift after them.

James looked for a window, seeing that it was still dark out when his eyes landed on it. Were they on patrol?

It felt like his mind cut out a huge chunk of time and he just randomly appeared a little further into the future, maybe a few days to a few weeks. He wasn’t too sure. He had a few memories of the things he’d done in that time, but it felt like he hadn’t done any of it. He was just forced a little further forward in time. Was it the stone? Was it pushing him towards something? Wanting him to see something?

He snapped his eyes towards the door open door when he heard the footsteps and laughing, though it sounded like they were strained and trying to be as quiet as possible, obviously failing. “Canon?” James calmed at seeing Bucky step around the door, his smile dropping and turning to curios concern. Dugan wasn’t with him now, probably went to take a piss or something, but he was alone and looking a little worried after seeing him so apprehensive with his back against the wall.

“Hey, you okay?” he stepped further into the room and slipped off the strap of his gun, tossing it to his bed after automatically flicking the safety on. He took of the few weapons he had and they were thrown to his bed too, right next to James’. They slept close, next to each other. He assumed that Dugan had the bed on the other end of the almost square shaped room.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…” he shook his head lightly and ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t bunned it or tied it up, and flicking his gaze to his left wrist covered by the sleeve, seeing the dark band wrapped around it, keeping the fabric closed around the metal. Bucky must’ve mistaken the glance, because he was stepping up close to him, eyeing him with a worried knitted brow.

“Another nightmare?” James eyed him, but didn’t move, didn’t nod or shake his head. He knew that he was never this close to anyone when he was Bucky, and during this time. Being attached to someone, becoming friends, it was inevitable, but you tried. Because they’d either end up dead or you did and it’d be a loss, not just of a comrade, but a friend. Bucky was closer, he felt oddly like family right now. He was making sure he was okay, worrying about him like a brother would.

“Sort of,” he finally replied with a subtle shrug. He’d said ‘ _another nightmare_ ’. So, Bucky had seen him go through one? Maybe found him after one or right before he sunk into one of his worst? Or maybe he’d only had minor ones and he hadn’t lashed out as much. If he’d seen him through one of his worst, then there’d be evidence. Bucky would be hurt, or maybe have bruises or breaks. He wouldn’t have been unharmed, and judging from his personality, he wouldn’t have just left him to go through it on his own. He would’ve tried to wake him, which wasn’t the best course of action. He’d definitely be hurt.

“Did I hurt you?” he heard himself mumbling quietly, almost brokenly. His voice was a deep whisper.

“What? You just saw me come through the door from patro-,”

“No, I mean before,” he watched him with strong focus, looking for any twitch or tell that would give him away. “My other nightmares,” and there it was. He saw the flash of something, a split-second and it was gone. Realization? Reluctance? “Have I hurt you before?” it flashed across his face again, and he caught it this time. Security. He knew the expression, what was coming next. He’d avoid answering directly. Maybe try to protect him and/or comfort him through it, and maybe defend James, not blaming him for any of it. And by the sigh that left the man...

“Listen, Jamie. None of it was you-,” … James was right. “-It was your nightmares and you just took action on instinct. Obviously what happened to you was really bad and it left scars, nightmares,” he gave a shrug that said ‘obviously’. “I’m not gonna blame you for acting out on impulse. You’re a trained soldier. I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a few more from _this_ war when or if you get your ass back to your time,” he wouldn’t. He never did. Bucky was a trigger happy man and he somewhat enjoyed taking out the opposing team because he was a competitive men when it mattered. He didn’t take joy in it, obviously, but he felt better for doing his job and taking them out. He could sleep at night because the ones he’d take out weren’t innocent.

James as the Winter Soldier, took out innocents, upon innocents, upon innocents. He had faces throwing themselves at him, screaming, crying, begging to live or that they ‘ _didn’t see anything_ ’ when his mission involved ‘ _no witnesses_ ’. Every time his eyes closed, he’d see a different face, a different face crying and trying to get away from what was inevitable.

“I don’t give a damn about the nightmares,” he responded flatly, deeply and he looked Bucky dead in the eye, pinning him there with just an almost broken look. “They’re in my head. You’re not,” he stared unnervingly at him. “You’re real and you’re someone I don’t want to hurt, while awake or asleep,” he sighed calmly and lowly, still watching him intently and noting that Bucky had bravely kept eye contact with him. “Don’t make me ask again…” James hated that his voice actually cracked. Only the once, but it showed that a fraction of control of his voice slipped.

And it seemed to hit Bucky. His jaw tightened and his breathing hitched slightly, like it was a mild surprise. He saw James as a strong man, a man that couldn’t bear to hurt someone that close to him. He couldn’t bare it, not if he actually hurt him, broke him. If James ever did, and because of a fucking nightmare, he’d never forgive himself.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jamie,” his voice was a whisper and James didn’t move or even flinch when the hand reached up without caution and was placed on the side of his neck, Bucky’s thumb gently running the few inches of his jaw. “You scraped me a few times, but I learnt my lesson after the first couple of nightmares,” so he _did_ hurt him. He harmed him ‘ _scraped_ ’ him. Obviously he did more than just scrape the man. He was downplaying the damage.

“Can I ask you about it?” James easily snapped from his thoughts and to attention without Bucky seeing that he’d been distracted with his own mind. He eyed him, a questioning frown creasing his brow and the other man finally managed to break their eye-lock to gesture towards the arm. He stiffened, his jaw locking and tensing like Bucky’s had before and he locked up, hesitant and reluctant. His breathing picked up, but… he nodded slowly and stiffly anyway.

He deserved at least something, some idea or some thought or image of what it was or how it was there. He didn’t want to lie, not anymore. He’d done enough of that, but the timeline was still at risk… He… didn’t exactly know what to say.

“How’ds it work?” he was expecting something different, a simple question, but… okay.

“Neural sensors attached at the nerves of what’s left of my arm inside of the metal. My brain controls it like my brain controls my right arm,”

“I’ll pretend that I understood all that,” he smirked at him, and James just scoffed, feeling his tension gradually leaving at how casual Bucky was being. He seemed so calm and laid-back at this point that it was putting him at ease.

“Think of how your arm works and imagine it being metal,” he simplified, seeing the understanding nod. He seemed to get it now, which he was thankful for, but… “The only thing different from what you’re imagining and what my arm has, is that mine’s got a coolant system for different outward temperatures. An In-cleaner, that regularly cleans the inside of the arm via small, but strong puffs of air. It’s enhancedly strong and can stop a moving truck and it lights up on the inside when I access that strength,” he knew the last one was true and he wasn’t lying because he saw the faint sliver of light through one of the seams when his arm had been worked on. They took it apart to fix something and jarred a bad wire that involuntarily accessed that strength and it lit up.

“The fuck’s a coolant system?” he looked like he was hit in the face by a pan or something. He looked genuinely confused.

“I can cool the arm down or heat it up, depending on my own body temp, or the temp around me. If I’m in a cold area, I can keep the arm from freezing or stiffening up by heating up the metal,”

“So, you can turn your arm into a mobile heater or a block of ice?” Bucky deadpanned with a crooked smirk, a trademark smile. He could tell that he’d been distracted, the soldier having made him think of different things, the thing being his arm, but he hadn’t thought of it badly, which was weird. Bucky asked the simple mechanic of it, how it worked and what something inside of it was. He was asking about the object itself instead of how it was there, why, how’d they fix it to him, or did it hurt.

“Not exactly a block of ice, but I can make it cold without it freezing up,” he would describe this as refreshing, but it was nicer to think of it this way than to have to think of it as the thing that ruined him, that made him feel like a monster, apart from his own mind.

“For hot places,” James nodded in affirmation. And that seemed to end it there. Bucky patted him where his hand had been and pulled back with a tired, but still crooked smirk. James huffed a breathy scoff through his nose and moved to sit back down on the bed, still mildly reluctant to sleep. He was still confused and unsure of how far he went into the future, clearly not far because Bucky looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit stubblier.

“How long’s it been since we left that town,” he muttered to himself, knowing that Bucky heard him and hoping that he’d answer. It was the easiest way to ask without the man finding out or knowing that he’d skipped times.

“About… couple of weeks… maybe six?” a month and a half? He skipped that far? He was thinking maybe a week or two, not six. That thought just meant that they were getting closer to being kidnapped, experimented on and that damn train was getting dangerous real again.

James swallowed thickly and reluctantly shifted to lie flat over the bed, one knee bent, the other straight. His flesh arm lifted and he draped it over his eye, not wanting to look at anything while his metal one, now uncovered by the glove, which was odd, was resting over his abdomen.

That length of time was bringing them closer to James’ worst nightmare and it terrified him that he’d have to re-board that damn thing. He was sure that Bucky would board it, because Steve would. It was their mission and they came as a pair. One doesn’t go without the other, and if one goes, so does the other.

He wouldn’t leave them behind.

He’d save them.

Or he’d die trying.

Bucky...

Steve...

“... _til the end of the line_ ,” he muttered tiredly, his voice deep, cracking with exhaustion, too tired to see the wide eyes snap towards him and stare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter. What'd you think? What was your favourite part? Mine was the ending. Just the..
> 
> “... til the end of the line,” he muttered tiredly, his voice deep, cracking with exhaustion, too tired to see the wide eyes snap towards him and stare.
> 
> I have to say that I'm pretty proud of this particular chapter. I really loved writing this one. It was fun, entertaining, interesting and the ending was filled with as much emotion as I could give it. Just the words and Bucky looking around at him. It's Buckys' and Steves' line and James finally using it should mean so much, and it did to me :) I had the feels.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of surprise for you guys :) A different look through different eyes! Yay!! I was making this James-centric up until here, thanks to [Salt00](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Salt00/pseuds/Salt00) for giving me the tremendous idea.

**Another few days later/Bucky POV**

Was it supposed to hurt hearing those words? Hearing his own kid say the line he used with Steve, but sounding so… broken, lifeless, like he wasn’t even saying it to anyone, or someone that wasn’t there anymore. Bucky was halfway thinking of chalking it up to missing his friends back in the future, in his own time. He was still sort of sceptical about it all, the whole ‘ _I’m your son from the future_ ’ thing, but it made better sense than anything else about his son so far. He knew he didn’t have a brother and his parents wouldn’t have just given one away, so Son made better sense than brother and it’d explain the arm and training.

But… it left a lot of questions. Too many.

What kind of rigorous training did he go through? Why was his personality so dark, bordering on grim? Why was he there in the first place? With him? Why did he have so many nightmares and how bad must his experience had been that he lashed out and almost screamed in his sleep without waking up? Jamie had nightmares, so many that it worried Bucky. He didn’t seem to have any that indicated anything to do with War, nothing like he’d seen a few of his other soldiers go through.

What Canon went through was… it scared Bucky to even consider that it almost seemed like torture, like he was tortured. He’d tried holding onto him before while he went through one, a bad decision, because Bucky ended up with a broken rib a mass of bruising. Thankfully, he could hide it.

But after that, he’d learnt to just stay back, not to get close. He didn’t seem to scream as much when whoever was in the room was further away. That was probably just Bucky thinking into it too hard. Anyway, he just watched, his need to look after Canon burning him. He’d toss his head around on the bed, sweat soaking his brow and his entire body would be as stiff and strong as a literal tank. His body wouldn’t move, maybe a twitch here and there, but it was like he was strapped down, trying to move, but couldn’t. His head would suddenly stop and he’d be panting wetly through clenched teeth. His veins would rise to his skin and he’d tense so hard that it hurt Bucky to watch him. And then he’d scream through his teeth, his throat tightening and arching just a little. It was seriously like he was being tortured, forced to go through it without consent.

The first time Bucky forced himself to sit and watch, trying to make sure that he was fine from a distance, he’d cried, tears running down his face with his hands covering his mouth. He felt his insides almost tearing apart to watch his _‘son’_ going through this. This wasn’t war, it was something else, something from his own timeline and it made Bucky question everything, question what they were even doing. They were fighting a war, a huge one, and that was the biggest baddy they had so far. So what was so bad that Jamie bypassed nightmares of WWII and went into nightmares of something he’d already been through. They were fighting a war and his son had already been through something worse.

Was the war even relevant? Did it even change anything? Did they even win? He was sure that Jamie hadn’t lied about them winning. They still had the advantage as of now and it just kept falling in their favour. They continued to break enemy lines and they ventured further, taking more and killing more. They were clearly taking lead.

Even though the Nazi’s did take one of their units the other week, the 105th. The entire group was gone, MIA, they were kidnapped or something. There were no bodies when the 107th unit got there, only the necessities they left, practically abandoned. It was like they just got up and left without everything. An ambush maybe? But then why would they take them instead of killing them?

Bucky turned his head towards Canon, watching him stare into the fire in front of him. He had a blank look on his face, like he wasn’t thinking, but just watching, even though he knew that the guy was aware of Bucky staring at him. He was _that_ well trained that he knew Jamie could feel his gaze on him. He was so sure of it. If he could take out so many guys in the span of a few seconds with headshots after headshots, he could easily tell that he was being stared at.

“You okay?” Bucky asked quietly and ducked his head a little to the side to get a better look at his face. It was lit up and flickering from the light of the fire, shadows dancing around and actually making him look tired. Or maybe he _was_ tired and just never said anything. They’d been ahead of the unit, having jogged for a good few miles to get that far ahead of them, so maybe he really was. Bucky was pretty tired himself, so it wouldn’t be surprising. Plus, Canon had had shitty nights recently, keeping him from shutting his eyes.

“M’fine,” was his mumbled reply, almost too inaudible that he’d nearly missed it.

“You sure? You sound pretty out of it, pal,” he gestured with a jut of his chin at him and Jamie finally turned to look at him, and yeah, he looked tired. His features were drawn and his eyes were unfocused, darting in fractions. “I’ll lend ya my lap,” he shrugged. It wasn’t weird to do that for comrades, especially when they were as out of it as Canon. It was the hugging while asleep that put some people off and made them think they were fags. Also, he doubted anyone would say anything because it was _them_. He and Jamie have been saying that they were brothers, using the lie that Canon used on him the first time. They believed it instantly and just let them get on with stuff.

“I’m not going to sleep,”

“Yeah, you are,” Bucky said with a matter-of-fact tone, eyeing his kid solidly and shifting his sitting position so his back was against the wide, broken tree trunk and his ankles were crossed, thighs together and ready for Jamie's’ head. “Lie down,” he made the words sound between a request and an order, using his Sergeant status to his advantage and he knew that Canon knew that too.

Sure enough, he reluctantly gave in, eyeing him warily with tired eyes before shifting to lie down, knees sort of bent, arms curled up near his stomach and his head was heavy on his lap. What really surprised him, was how fast he’d dropped off. He was out like a light in a matter of seconds, practically as soon as his skull hit his legs, he was out. Bucky reached his hand up and skirted some strands of hair out of his face, tucking them behind his ear and then rest his forearm over the guys shoulder. He’d admit that he was a little nervous, just waiting for a sudden lash out while he did his hair and rested his arm against his shoulder, but he didn’t even flinch. It made him think that maybe he felt like safety or something, or that he was a neutral presence to him while he slept, so he wouldn’t suddenly swing for him while sleeping. He hoped that was the case.

Most of the time, while he was out, Bucky felt almost useless. The very first time, when he’d cried while watching him seize up and scream through a pain he must remember, he couldn’t help, felt terrible because all he could do was watch and capture the petrifying moment of his own son going through torture. He’d been utterly useless. He couldn’t touch him, hold him, whisper comforting words to get him through it.

So, Jamie allowing himself to rest and relax, _using him_ as a pillow, even to sleep, was one of the moments where relief was one of the best feelings he’d have. Severe Post Traumatic Stress, that was what his son had and he’d felt safe enough to sleep on him and allow him simple touches. It was an achievement, a mass of unintentional progress paying off and he’d smiled softly at him, watching him breathe easy while unconscious. Bucky felt his heart warm up as he watched him, taking in the careful details of his face and hair. He really couldn’t understand why they were completely identical. He really could’ve been his twin brother. Hell, he’d have thought that they could’ve been the same person had Canon not told him. If he hadn’t said anything, he’d say that the kid was him in a few years.

He was glad that Jamie told him, took some of the questions away. Bucky was happy to know that he even had kids, it told him that he’d survive this and get himself a dame, even have children that turned out identical to him. What he was afraid of was what that kid would go through. Maybe he could stop it. Maybe he could figure out what actually happened from Jamie himself and try to prevent it when the time comes. Maybe he could save his son...

It was really weird to think of him as his own kid, the guy was older by a few years, but he… sort of liked the idea that he’d met him and had a kid that turned out so strong and was basically a walking tank of power. The thought was almost literal. Bucky’d seen him get shot a few times, but he’d walked it off like he hadn’t just had a bullet to the arm, leg and chest. He seriously just kept shooting and patched himself up when everything died down. He’d even seen him take a bullet out like it was nothing, no wincing or hissing pain, no aching or straining and struggling to walk. He was just power and strength, invulnerable to everything that should hurt.

Hell, Jamie was the most admired in the unit. He was the leg most of the troop stood on. They followed his actions and tried to walk it all off themselves. They followed his lead and it made Bucky proud. Jamie was being hero-worshipped by a fuck-ton of soldiers that laid down their lives for their country. Couldn’t get any prouder of your own son than that, right?

“You babyin’ him now?” Bucky glanced up as Dumdum came about, moving to sit a few feet away with his arms resting along the back of the log. He stared at him, a sour look on his red-mustache’d mug.

“Not babyin’ him. He needed sleep and I’m makin’ sure he gets it. We still got a long way to go,” was that technically babying? No, he was just making sure that he got some rest so he could keep going. He was looking out for his comrade and family. That wasn’t _babying_.

He really didn’t get what the guys’ problem was. Dumdum was suspicious from day one of meeting Canon and he’d been bitchin’ a majority of the time he was there. He’d even asked about changing patrol shift so Jamie was paired with him and he was sure it was to grill him for info on stuff. Bucky denied it and made sure that the kid stayed with him. They were still friends, but Bucky wanted to make sure that the two guys weren’t apart for most of the time. Sleeping arrangements, he stuck close, Dumdum was usually on the other end of the room with Bucky between them. He was pretty sure Jamie noticed all of it too and he was doing his best to respect the boundaries Bucky put up for them.

“Out of all of us, he’d have the better chance of surviving all this shit, even on no sleep,” his friend stated bitterly, shaking his head a little and then dropping his eyes on the sleeping man using him as a pillow. “He could probably kill Hitler without even fuckin’ tryin’,”

“Probably could, but I’d rather not let him try,” just in case. He was sure that he could look after himself, no doubt of that actually. But… he was getting attached. It wasn’t a good thing to admit to himself, especially in their situation, where they were and what they were fighting, but he was growing fonder of the kid every day, finding more things to be proud of and scared of every second. He was getting to know the guy and enjoyed his company.

If they’d waited this long before Jamie told him the lie that they were brothers… Bucky probably would’ve believed it. They were scarily similar, in appearance and personality, Canon was just a lot more damaged and it overshadowed his brighter mind.

If he hadn’t been so hurt and broken in so many places, they really could’ve been the same person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed. What'd you like most? :) It's really hard to choose for me, it has to between Bucky using his parental side to get James to sleep or the whole protective side of him through a majority of this chapter. I like this idea and I really thank you for giving it to me Salt :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 chapters and I'm very sure that this is going to go way further than that. I've had a few great ideas for this and I'm thinking that you might already know if you notice the route they're taking and the time stamps in the sentences, plus the year and the seasons I had James talking about. If you don't get what I'm talking about, let me know xD 
> 
> Also, if you want, you can give me an idea or two for a chapter since I need more filler to actually get where I need this story to be when I get to the actually plot.

The 110th was reported MIA. James remembered this, he’d remembered acting out and getting pissed because of the confusion that overcame him. He’d been pissed because he had no clue as to what the hell was going on. And he was now watching it from the outside, watching as Bucky paced back and forth and paused to kick the tire of their truck before starting the pacing again. Too anyone else it was a scene of angry venting, but to James, it was Bucky trying to hold it together.

The 105th went MIA not too long ago and now the 110th. The units were disappearing around them and they were left along with the 106th and 104th, and if James remembered right, the latter would be taken soon, and then the 107th. They were taken in the late Winter, and he remembered snow, and then they were in cages, being tested on.

He wasn’t too sure of if he could actually stop it, the entire unit being abducted. Yes, he’d taken out a whole HYDRA base before, but never this. Johann Schmidt had the largest gathering of men at his feet and in the same area, no HYDRA base had been that big. It needed Captain America and Schmidts’ hand pressing the literal buttons to take down that building and forces, plus a shit-ton of trigger happy soldiers that wanted freedom and payback. The building that he’d been trapped in and experimented on for the Winter Soldier program. The very first trials. If he’d wanted to, James could’ve probably gone on ahead to ensure that none of the programming worked, that the labs were destroyed and that Zola never got his filthy hands on any of them, on Bucky.

But then, that would leave them open to an ambush. If he went on ahead to destroy the labs, the timeline could change and maybe the abduction would happen sooner, maybe later. He probably couldn’t change a thing. Maybe… maybe if he followed his actions closely, the actions of Bucky, he could be taken with them and stop them from the inside. Pose as one of the abductees and destroy from the inside out.

He vaguely remembered reading that Steve had released the men pre-battle, so maybe he could fight and help alongside him- No- wait, Bucky had been strapped to the table at that point. He’d already been introduced to the program… He could break out sooner? Take Bucky with him?

James snapped from his inner plans as Bucky dropped on the bench next to him, his body loose and tired as his back leaned onto his side, covering his shoulder with his head resting back against his neck. He looked completely dejected, exhausted and too depressed for his liking. He still had the crease in his brow, his eyes closed and he huffed, seeming to get comfy with his back resting against James’ side. It was actually really surprising how fast he’d warmed up to him, how fast James had warmed up in return. This felt… neutral, a steady ground for him to stand on. This was simple, easy, he wasn’t being judged and he hadn’t felt like he was either. No one asked questions, no one even bothered with questioning their similar appearance after he gradually stopped wearing his mask. They only shrugged everything off and welcomed him. He became very mildly chatty with a few of the other soldiers thanks to Bucky and they had thanked him, smiled and laughed and told jokes in their spare time, when they rested for the next day.

James liked this. It was so much easier than where he came from. He was a deadly soldier and this unit wanted him there, Bucky wanted him there. Hell, even Dugan had started easing up on the suspicion, thanks to his ‘ _father_ ’. It was still an odd thing to think, even if he’d lied about it.

“How’re you so calm,” the soldier fractionally turned his head, looking at the side of the other soldiers’ face from the corner of his eyes. His hair was loose, so there were a few strands in his sight.

“I was-... trained to be,” he’d almost slipped. He’d thought of the words ‘ _I was programmed_ ’ and he’d nearly said that word. James swallowed and dropped his calm gaze to the dirt between his dusty soled boots. He could feel the faintly shaken breathes of Bucky against him, his body not having completely relaxed after sitting down with him. He could feel that he was trying, but he wasn’t succeeding.

“How long did it take you?” he then felt the younger soldiers head tilt towards him, his hair brushing the exposed skin of his upper neck. When had he become so used to this? To the casual and neutral touches and brotherly embraces that Bucky gave him? Normally, he would've stepped out of reach, maybe flinched or watched him like a hawk until he was calm again, it was what he'd done with Steve and his team back in 2016, before and right after the battle in Germany. But here he was, letting Bucky so close and he could feel that his guard wasn't as high, his mind and body very aware of it, but it was like he felt no threat. Bucky wasn’t a threat, so he wasn't reacting the way he'd used to.

“Not long,” James eventually supplied, his fingers entangling between his knees, to what his elbows were leaning on. It wasn't a lie. It was programming. A mere few seconds and he knew how to be as calm as possible. And it was an intimidating appearance to the other HYDRA agents, they’d taken a step back when he was let up from the chair and just stood there like some statue.

“Could you teach me?” James stiffened, his body going rigid, like a statue he’d just mentioned. He clenched his jaw and swallowed thickly. He couldn’t teach him, he wouldn’t.

“Not a good idea,” he’d rasped, his voice deep and rough, gritty with an almost emotionless feel as they’d left his lips. It felt like he was speaking to Steve again, back at the apartment, back in the abandoned factory, back under the bridge where everyone gathered and then on the Quinjet and in that old base where the other Winter Soldiers were held.

“Why’s that?” the weight against him shifted, Bucky angle turning so he could face him more and he saw the mildly concerned crease in his browline as he eyed him, examining him, but his tone stayed steady.

“It isn’t something I can teach,” he shook his head lightly, pausing to stare down between his boots again before stifling a faint shudder at thoughts of the chair that made him that way, the programming, the lab-coats walking around and telling him that he was doing this for a great purpose… Zola. “And if I could, I still wouldn’t recommend it,” he hadn’t registered the deeper and rougher voice until after the words were spoken, the slightly darker tone that went with the built up anger of the man, his name only needed to be said and he felt the spark lighting in his chest. The man needed to die.

“Canon?” Bucky snapped him from his thoughts, James flickering back to reality to see that his gloved metal hand was bruising his flesh one, his grip wrapped around the normal one and tight. He could see the darkening skin, the gradual turning of colour from tanned peach to blue-ish purple. He hadn’t felt it, too caught up in his own thoughts and now he could feel the aching, the fractional twitching of his fingers as they only then started to heal.

“The _training_ I went through forced me to change,” James continued, his voice cracking in places as he kept his eyes on the flesh hand, watching the colour changing, ever so slowly. “I became completely impassive to everything and everyone,”

“I’da thought you’d need that in our situation,” it was meant to be a light hearted joke, something that would be laughed at, a way of shrugging off the grim mood, and it did for a moment, a curve tugged at the corner of his lips, small and almost unnoticeable unless one was really looking at him.

“There’s _passive_ , and then there’s _impassive_ ,” he commented, turning to glance at the other man for a split-second before turning away and taking a calming breathing. “There’s a difference,” he added subtly.

“You weren’t trained, were you,” James paused, his eyes open, unblinking as he stayed still as if fear had just overcame him. It hadn’t, not the kind of fear that he caused. No, the fear of Bucky knowing. He’d seen through him. “At least, not willingly,” that had set a stiff, dark shroud over James’ shoulders and back. He could feel it, that the other soldier could sense that he was suddenly brooding, thinking of his past and all the pain, thoughts and torture he’d gone through, all the negativity that he’d tried to abandon on this journey. But the soldier, he couldn’t. The thought was there, re-planted and staring him dead in the eye. “That was a bullseye, huh,” dead on.

“They hurt you, forced you into it,” James shook his head again, almost in denial as he lowered his gaze, his hair draped and framing his jawline up to his forehead. Bucky was finding this out too fast, too soon. He never wanted him to learn any of this. None of it.

He unintentionally sniffed and took a deep breath, Bucky seeming to take that as something different, because he lifted himself from James and spun around on the spot, a leg behind him and pressed against his knee. His arms instantly reached out and James easily resisted the urge to shift away and just let him hold onto the soldier, pulling him against his chest so his face was half buried against his neck and jaw.

Physical comfort, one of the many things he’d hadn’t felt for decades and when he finally got it, it was from himself, a man he used to be. It felt nice, warm… family. He felt like family to James and it made his situation even crazier, that he felt like he actually believed this lie himself, a lie he told so easily that it slipped out like velvet and here he was, being comforted in an embrace by the man himself.

James, the Winter Soldier, a man with cold dead eyes, the eyes of a soldier who’d been on the front lines, fighting his own single man war against the clutches of an organization, for far too long and had forgotten the warmth of family and friends. Family… Bucky, Steve… and friends, Barton, the Maximoff girl, hell, even Sam Wilson.

But here, as of right now, he had family, sort of, and… he had a right to know, right? James highly doubted that he’d return to his own time any time soon, if he hadn’t already. If he was staying, sooner was better than later, even if it’d hurt to tell him and hurt Bucky to hear it. He wouldn’t cry, that was a rule as of right now. His discipline wouldn’t allow him to tear up if he didn’t want to.

So… “Dehumanization,” he started off slow. “Neural reprogramming, weaponizing-,” he listed ever so slowly, ticking them as he spoke the one word each.

“Canon?” Bucky cut in warily, his voice slightly shaken as he felt him shift just a bit.

“-memory removal-,” and he’d continued like he hadn’t said a word, wanting to get the list out of the way before any more interruptions.

“Jamie,”

“-Physical enhancement, objectification,” he ignored, shifting himself to sit up, though he was still being held by him in an embrace, an awkwardly angled hug. James eyed him and stayed silent, watching him cautiously as his brow creased and the fear was clear in his eyes, not fear _of_ him, but fear _for_ him. It was an odd thing to see, especially aimed at him, but he remembered this expression, for whenever Steve was ill, unwell or bedridden by something as simple as a cold and he’d always have that expression on his face.

“I… I don’t-,” Bucky stuttered, his voice shaken and cracking and he could feel him lightly shaking, his body faintly shuddering against his own. James swallowed and sat up further, now eye level with himself and he let out a calming breath before clearing his throat.

“You called me a walking-tank before, you weren’t that far off from what they made me,” he commented, his eyes now lowering to his ‘ _father's_ ’ chest, not wanting to look him in the eye as he added- “They made a weapon,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter :) What'd you like most? I'd say it was the 'casual and neutral touches and embraces and talks' part with Bucky and James for me, like he was finally relaxed enough to admit it to himself, oh and the line-
> 
> "A man with cold dead eyes, the eyes of a soldier who’d been on the front lines, fighting his own single man war against the clutches of an organization, for far too long and had forgotten the warmth of family and friends." That has to be one of my favourites :) 
> 
> Very emotional, this chapter. Towards the end where he was just listing off a one word-thing for everything that happened to him. (Also, I'm sorry if that seemed rushed or cheesy in anyway. I don't have an excuse for it. It seemed fine until I re-read it. It looked like I made him say all that too fast, like I should've waited a few chapters or something :/ )
> 
> Again, if you want, you can give me an idea or two for a chapter since I need more filler to actually get where I need this story to be when I get to the actually plot.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit more of an emotional chapter on Bucky's end, this one. There's talk, and feelings, and inner monologues and stuff. 
> 
> Let me know what you think and let me know if you have any ideas for a filler-chapter for me, because I need to reach late winter in 1944 to get started on the actual canon. :)

Making sense of those words was a lot harder than he’d thought. Yeah, he understood the meaning of each one and what they were, in a basic sense. He wasn’t stupid, not an idiot or a thick basterd. He knew what the words meant and how Jamie emphasized each one in a slightly harder tone, probably unintentionally making them sound terrifying. But to him, they would be. He’d gone through all that shit, experienced it firsthand. So, it was clear that it scared him. Hell, it scared the fuck out of Bucky. Just the thought and meaning behind each one from his son’s point of view. Having to sit through it because he couldn’t do a damn thing.

On a not-so-bright side, Bucky now understood why during his nightmares his movements seemed limited, like he was strapped down. Because, he probably had been during whatever they put him through, to keep him still. Torture. His son had been tortured.

It made him feel sick, made his stomach churn and his mind swim with horrible thoughts, thoughts he didn’t want to think. He understood the difference now, between passive and impassive. He understood why Jamie had said that he wouldn’t recommend even trying to teach him how to stay calm. That was one of the bigger differences between them. Bucky, he was passive, he shrugged things off and laughed. He was passive to things, he could choose to not be bothered by them, and he could choose to not be emotional during whatever situations, but he could still feel emotional. Canon, he was impassive. He had no choice, couldn’t express his feelings towards something couldn’t be emotional, and if he could, he was acting, pretending. All the times he’d seen emotion or an expression from the man, it was faked for him, for Jamie himself and he couldn’t fell hurt or happiness because the shit he’d gone through took that away.

Bucky understood that and he’d decided to categorize that part of his son under Dehumanization and Neural Reprogramming. Because that was what it was. The mentally mutilated him. They bent him beyond repair. They broke the things that couldn’t have been bent and destroyed what made him perfectly human. He was still human, Bucky knew that, but whoever did this to him, took his _feelings_ , his emotion. His love, hate, happiness, anger, hope, compassion, will and fear… they took everything and left him with not even a quarter of what he should be able to feel.

It was terrifying what people could do… and to other people! Humans’ shouldn’t be able to do that! And not to other humans’. It was inhumane, sick, traumatizing.

Jamie was destroyed, inside and out to be weaponized! They wanted to make him a literal weapon!

He’d learned a little later after that, from Jamie, that they even called him Asset, a completely dehumanizing name. They never called him a ‘him’, or ‘he’, no. He’d said that he was deemed a thing and that was it. They treated him like an object. Objectification.

It pissed him off and he was inwardly smouldering, burning on the inside and he was actually thinking of mass murder on the ones that did it. He hoped that he’d meet them so he can go on a huge mass murder fest and just kill the ones that hurt his boy.

Bucky pushed himself up from the ground, his arms straining and he dropped back down, going straight into another ten-set of push-ups. Several other soldiers were there, most of the guys he’d gotten to know since joining up, Dumdum was there, watching and drinking from a previously full liquor bottle he found in one of the abandoned houses. Jamie was there too, working out with the rest of them, but he could see that the kid was holding back, trying to seem as _not-so_ enhanced as he actually was. Hell, Bucky knew that he could probably reach the triple digits doing push-ups and he might, _just might_ , break a sweat, just one. He highly doubted that eighty was his limit, like he was making out for the rest of the troops, to make them feel better about themselves. He had half a mind to tell the guys that he was messing with them, and could out do them all.

But, thankfully for all of them, he wasn’t that mean, or as mean as everyone made him out to be.

Bucky was actually on his sixty-sixth, only now starting to struggle, his arms lightly shaking at the elbows up. His wrists were raw, the palm of his hands pressed into the sharp, gritty ground and his jaw was clenched as he pushed back up, letting out a breath there before dropping down with barely any control. A few of the other soldiers gave up in the early and later fifties, a few few giving up as he and Canon were facing each other, heads down and still working out. They were still going as the group around them started to dwindle and lose numbers. a few were running around the camp, training and patrolling and thankfully, it wasn’t as distracting as it had been when he was a trainee.

“A’right, ladies!” the Lieutenant's voice called authoritivly, everyone instantly jumping to their feet and turning to face the man as he came around. “We’re moving out, grab your shit and haul ass!” he ordered, his eyes pausing for a second on Canon, but he said nothing, as per usual. He knew that the guy didn’t care that he was there, in fact ‘ _more hands means a better chance. He motivates and that’s what we need_ ’. The Lieutenant's words, and damn if it didn’t make him even prouder. The unit loved the guy being around because of the fact that he motivated and if the Lieutenant says it, then it was a huge deal.

He’d tell him this, even if Jamie knew that he was proud without him saying it, good, but Bucky wanted him to know, wanted to give him a huge dose of affirmation that he really was proud of him. He wanted to tell him that he was a great man, deserved the world, love, happiness, deserved the best life imaginable and was the brightest thing in Bucky’s life. Steve was too obviously, but… his _son_. Someone that was conceived by him turned out to be such a great person like Jamie, even with all the shit he went through. He was the best thing that happened to him and he really couldn’t wait to get back to Brooklyn, Canon at his heel so he can proudly show off his son to his best friend.

Maybe next mail-call he could write up a letter and send it back to him and tell him what happened, how he found his son in a town that he was called to, tell him how great of a man he turned out to be. He’d obviously have to tell him the Time Travel shtick, but he’d have to leave out a few things, like what happened to him and his arm and the nightmares n’ shit. And the crying the first time Bucky had to watch him go through one instead of trying to physically help.

- _Oh_ -, Bucky actually helped with them now. For the first time, Jamie hadn’t freaked out or lashed out when he managed to hold him during a smaller nightmare. He’d been gentle and careful, lifted his upper half up and rested him back against his chest with his arms around his shoulders while they lied there and went through it. Jamie eased up faster, even stayed asleep and he stopped his limited thrashing around and they fell asleep. Next morning, Canon asked what happened and he seemed… pleased? Relieved? It’d brought a smile to his face.

But that had only happened twice so far, in the span of two, nearly three, weeks.

\----------

They were on the road in a matter of minutes, everyone walking and jogging in the same direction with a few trucks alongside, behind and ahead. Three specifically. And he liked their odds. The unit was slightly bigger than the others and he was feeling confident as they headed towards where the recently disappeared unit had been. The 110th. They were ordered, a few days ago, to head there, to check things out. It seemed that everything was weird on commands end, and so they were called to investigate before moving on. It’d take them a while to get there, couple of days, since they were ahead of them by that amount.

It was weird on their end too, a majority of the guys in the unit were afraid that they’d be next, that their asses were gonna be taken. He was tempted to ask Canon if he knew anything. He’d have to know if this unit was next or would eventually be taken. If his father was in that unit, he’d know. It was almost fact to him now, that the guy would know something. And he’d have to survive it all because he had a son, and at a really late age. So, he lived that long at least.

“Don’t think so hard, you’ll hurt yourself,” Bucky let out a surprised bark of laughter at Canon sudden comment. He actually made a damn joke.

“You think you’re funny, huh,” he rounded, a beaming smile on his face as he glanced to the side and saw the smirk on Jamies’ face. He was actually smiling too. He’d assume he was having a good day then, better than most since he actually seemed to be a little happier. Maybe that _impassive_ side of him, they were talking about, was starting to ease up and let him actually _feel_ something. Maybe he was starting to _feel_ again. Maybe being around Bucky was helping, it was an option since he was his father, so maybe he just needed him to be there. “When did you become so funny,”

“Just because I don’t make jokes, doesn’t mean I can’t,” the small smile was still there, a curve just at the corner and just about noticeable. “I used to be a pretty funny guy. Between you and-... mom, I followed you directly. You gave me your funny-bone, sarcasm and attitude,” he seemed pretty hesitant when talking about her, his mother, maybe something happened or he was being cautious in what he said to not give her away to Bucky. He could imagine being with a gal, but not actually having a kid with one just yet. Maybe he was looking for the right one before having a child. “It was like I _was_ you before I-...” he gestured towards his arm and looked ahead, his smile having gone and Bucky was disappointed to see it go.

He liked his smile, it’d been great to finally see that tiny bit of happiness in his eyes and on his face. It made his chest flutter just a bit.

“I would’ve liked to meet you before all that, but I’m glad I met you either way, regardless of the shit you went through,” Bucky shoulder bumped him, feeling his solid body only shift an inch or two. He was like a fuckin’ rock, seriously. “I’m a proud guy, Canon,” even if he wasn’t looking at him, he could feel the guys eyes on him, probably wide in surprise or something. “You’re one hellofa man, great, strong, sensible. More than anything I could’ve hoped for in a son,” he finally looked at him, seeing the comically wide eyes and slightly agape mouth and Bucky beamed at him, emotion clear on his face as he added- “I’m proud of you, Jamie,”

And then that smile was back, bigger, wider, happiness seeming to fill him as it turned into a beaming smile, matching Bucky’s and that feeling spreading in his son reached his eyes, filled them. He’d taken a breath, biting at his lower lip like he couldn’t handle this or something. He’d wavered, his breathing hitched and his shoulders shook for a second before they were stone again and he didn’t know if it was a good thing or not when he saw that single tear instantly wiped away like it was dust on his face.

He didn’t know what the hell was going on in the future, with friends and family and stuff, but Bucky was glad he’d said it, because it looked like Jamie really needed to hear it. Whatever was going on, the guy was so overwhelmed, enough to cry, from just hearing those words, probably moreso those words coming from his dad.

 _He was glad he said them_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :) What d'you think? You like it? Have fun reading? What was your favourite bit? James smiling when Bucky said that he was proud, pulled at my heart-strings. Rather emotional chapter, this. I really enjoyed writing it :) 
> 
> Let me know what you think, and if you have any ideas on what I can add as a few filler chapters, comment and I'll get back to you in a matter of seconds!!! I tend to comment back as soon as I get one 'cause I'm the easily excited kind of person xD


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I changed the abduction from Early Spring to Late Winter, so it won't be long before this starts to follow something and hopefully, you guy will like the idea!! Also, there's some fun in this one, not too bad and it's actually a little truth to what happened every now and again while our old folks were in WWII. My grampa gave me the idea since he found out that I was writing this and used to do this himself.

Hours, it took James hours to manage to calm himself down after that, to stop feeling so light, warm and excited. Bucky of all people, _his past self_ , told him that he was proud, proud of who he was, of who he became and he’d been the Winter Soldier, the thing that damaged him the most. He was sure he hadn’t come back from it, hadn’t forgiven himself for all that happened and all that he’d done. And he still couldn’t remember a majority of the what and why’s. But… all that backing in his mind, he still felt this… overwhelming warmth and relief from hearing those words, from hearing ‘I’m proud of you’, and from the man he used to be, no less.

From just hearing them, he felt that warmth spread just a bit, brightening his day, his week. He felt energized and full of energy again and there was this coldness in his heart, a spark feeling like it was taking that coldness away.

It put a whole new twist on the phrase ‘ _only you can heal yourself_ ’.

And the soldier was different, from when he first arrived and first talked with his _father_ , he’d seen the change in himself. He was open, he talked more and even laughed some. He _trusted_ others, admittedly not completely, but he had. He trusted Bucky, he trusted him as much as he trusted Steve to not abandon him and he was sure that the man was trying everything to find him, it’d be stupid not to think that. It said a lot of how much he really believed in him and in the soldier currently sleeping next to him, the light of the fire flickering over his face. The trust he held for this man just seemed to continue to grow with every day that he was there. He made him feel almost completely safe.

James never dropped his guard, it was always high and heavy, solid with a few years of distrust of everyone, including himself. But there was a shy opening in it, where Bucky had slipped through. With this man, he could show some of himself, metaphorically bare himself and show some of the human side to him. It was… relieving. He’d become less of a muted danger and more of a guarded, and damaged soldier. He was Bucky, but damaged, and wasn’t called Bucky anymore.

He was James ‘ _Canon_ ’ Barnes… Or _Jamie_ Canon Barnes. Jamie Buchanan Barnes? He needed to pick one before he ended up with more identity issues than he already had.

“ _Hey, you awake?_ ” a man whispered, his voice quiet and directed his way. James shifted and turned himself onto his back, looking over his shoulder to see a few of the unit’s men huddled near the fire, a majority of them watching him. His guard was higher with the surrounding men, including Dugan, but he could keep himself at ease, since he vaguely remembered them being a bit of fun here and there when on breaks for food and drinks and a night of rest.

He said nothing, only watched them.

“Want some?” at that, they offered up a bottle and another offered a cigarette, and he was sure that that wasn’t just nicotine in it. If they smoked a regular smoke, there’d be no sharing unless it was a few between them. So, his mind instantly went to either weed or something of the like.

It wasn’t like he was affected by any of the stuff, but he also remembered that he wasn’t new to the substance. Bucky was no angel and war was tough, and it was good to feel something _good_ every chance they had. These times were never easy and that was experience speaking. Though, he had more of a chance to re-acquaint himself with the unit again, and that’d be something good for him, to re-learn his kinship with the men he’d have died alongside if it weren’t for Captain America.

So James quietly moved himself from his lying position and silently closed in on the group, a few of them shifting to give him room before he quietly sat cross-legged with them, hand already reached out and carefully plucking the cigarette from one of them and then relaxing back with his elbows on his knees. The almost bottle was placed on the ground, close to his other hand, resting against his knee.

He simply took a hefty drag, already tasting the drug wrapped in paper and taking it into his lungs. He _remembered_ it, the taste and calming effects it used to have when he was the man before. It’d relaxed him, calmed him, helped him sleep on more than one occasion. He was sure that if Steve had known, he’d have given him -Bucky- a stern look, since it’d been illegal, _was it illegal at the time_? He couldn’t remember, but drug use, regardless, he would’ve been faced with a stern disappointment. Hell, he was sure that the Steve in 2016 would still give him a look of disappointment if he knew what he was doing, even _with_ the enhanced metabolism, making it more than difficult to feel any effect whatsoever.

James handed it off to the next person, allowing the smoke and substance to ease out through his lips so very slowly after letting it churn in his lungs for a few moments. There was quiet laughter and a joke going around, one that he’d heard before and many more times and he just scoffed with it, to make it seem as if he hadn’t heard it, while taking a drink of whatever one of the men put next to him. He had to refrain from sputtering at the overly strong and harsh taste of German Vodka. It was only then opened, the strength behind it still in the bottle and it hit him, making him want to cough and or choke against it. Instead, he only simply cleared his throat. Seventy years and he hadn’t been allowed to drink anything variated of alcohol, and yet he could still drink everyone under the table.

“-nd then I said, ‘ _dry spell? Good news, the forecast tonight calls for heavy rain, an’ guess how many inches’_ ,” the group then erupted in laughter, probably waking a few of the men already sleeping and even James let out a few chuckles, a smile on his face.

“She slapped ya, yeah?” one of the other guys asked/stated as he wiped his eye, still laughing and the man who’d told the terrible pick-up line laughed again, more dejected, but still laughing heartily.

“Yeah, but like a man. Punched me right in the gut and n’ walked off,” more laughter and less contained. James shook his head with a grin, his shoulders lifting and falling just a bit with his own chuckling, and he refrained from taking note that he was genuinely laughing at this, that he was actually smiling and laughing with the unit, bonding over drink and safe drugs. In years, he was actually feeling something good and it wasn’t with Steve. And then he realized that he _took note_.

“Canon,” he glanced up and reached for the cigarette held out to him, taking it with an nod of acknowledgement and then taking another lengthy drag. There was two going around, so there was plenty, one between three, and one between four and it was going in a circle. He held it in his lungs again, letting it stew for another moment, smirking as he noticed that he was letting little puffs out through his nose.

“ _What the fuck_ ,” a few of the men laughed, causing him to as well in an almost contagious cause and started coughing slightly.

“Don’t make him choke n’ die, Jones!” one of the guys in the circle coughed and laughed, shoving at the one next to him. And James was laughing with them before taking a shorter drag and then handing it over to the next man. He was surprisingly enjoying himself in this circle of weed smokers, even joining in the laughter himself and he was finally relaxing, even though his system wasn’t taking in the effects of the drug, he was still feeling the effects of the others. Their good natured camaraderie and friendship and happiness being as contagious as the fun and laughter.

“Oh hey, look,” a few of them went silent enough that James glanced up at them and directed his gaze even further up when he saw them staring at the sky. His lips closed and he stared as well, watching the small whites of snow falling softly around them, slow and graceful as they surrounded them and delicately touched them and the ground. It was beautiful, nothing like the snow in the cities or in massive towns. They were in a large expanse of forestry, devoid of anything from from towns and cities, except people, soldiers sleeping, drinking and smoking their night off. This was nature and it was a beautiful thing to watch.

But then, it reminded him of the times and dates. Early winter, late October. They were taken between mid-winter and late-winter. Meaning, a few more weeks, maybe five, six.. And they’d go by fast, regardless of the few memory lapses he’d had that seemed to skip to something or another. They were getting closer to the time that Bucky would be caged, and then tested on by Zola and Schmidt.

He still wasn’t sure. James was sure that he’d attempt to save him, would really try. There was no deciding at this point. He’d try, and try hard. But he’d gone back to Alaric’s’ words, that some things were set in stone, and couldn’t be broken. So, there was a chance that neither he nor Steve of 1945 would be able to do a thing.

But he continued to watch it as the cigarette was passed to him again, the men in the circle doing the same and keeping quiet as they gazed at the rarity. James took another hefty drag, keeping it firmly inside himself as he passed it along, not laughing or letting it out in puffs through his nose. He instead held it for some time and then gradually let it out above him with his head tilted upwards.

“Havin’ fun, boys?” he snapped his eyes to the side, watching as the Lieutenant stepped over and plucked the cigarette from one of the guys on his right, taking his own inhalation of it before stepping away with it in hand and with one of the guys cursing under his breath after losing his chance for a puff of the drug. Though, the guy across from him held out his own, letting him have the last of it.

Camaraderie-ship. Another beautiful thing in the time they were in. It was almost nostalgic, nostalgic enough that he had a momentary flash of what happened later, after the main base of Schmidt’s was taken down. _The Howling Commandos_. The group created by Steve and formulated of the best men he’d ever had the pleasure of working alongside during 1944 and 1945. An incredible lot.

James Morita, aka, Jim, the medic. Jacques Dernier, aka, Frenchie, demolitions expert. Gabriel Jones, aka, Gabe, communications specialist. James Falsworth, aka, Monty, tactics. Timothy Dugan, aka, Dumdum, transport specialist. James Buchanan Barnes, aka, Bucky, Sniper. And Steve Rogers, aka, Captain America, Operations command.

It brought a few questions to mind, one being that if he could stay long enough, would he be a part of that team? Would… Jamie Buchanan Barnes, aka, Canon, _walking-tank_ , be added to the roster of Howling Commandos? James even lightly scoffed at the thought, ‘ _walking-tank_ ’ specifically, because he wouldn’t put it passed Bucky to change his specialty to that for fun. What would that specialty be? It was _accurate_ , he assumed, or as accurate as anyone could get with how many specialties he had and knew and could put into a few short words… he’d have probably wrote down _Specialty: Everything_. Because… that was what he knew. He had so many and he’d once been called an _army of one_.

Another question… would he meet Captain America, the one from 1944 again, but as Jamie _-Canon-_. Would he get a chance to speak with him, have any type of acquaintanceship with him after saving Bucky, or would he disappear before even getting the chance? Regardless of meeting him, or… re-uniting? He didn’t want to just fade, disappear out of his _family’s_ life. He wanted a chance to save him, to stop what would happen if he hadn’t been there.

“Think it’s too late to turn in?” one of the men finally spoke up after a too long moment of silence, long enough that he ended up thinking and then over-thinking. He needed to stop it so he could actually think of what needed to be done and how he could do it. He knew almost everything that would happen with Bucky, and he could easily stop them if it wasn’t all set in stone. He just needed to formulate a plan for each event. But before that.

“Not if you can get a few hours. You guys need to rest up,” he muttered before making his move to stand, handing the bottle back to one of the other men still sitting in the circle but gradually making their own moves as well.

“You sound like the Sergeant,” the one across from his said with a smirk, eyeing him over with a casual comrade swagger before he turned and stepped away.

“An’ not just ‘cause you’re practically identical, in both looks and voice,” another chuckled while tapping at his throat, as if gesturing to his voicebox. Funny, since he was a few inches off from where it actually was. Drink must’ve hit him hard, though his words hadn’t slurred much.

“Well, he had the right idea, g’on,” he waved his arm as a ‘ _shoo, get to bed_ ’ type of gesture, watching as they all gradually dispersed to their sleeping plots and got down in the dirt and/or blankets that were spread out amongst them. James decided to do the same and turned away towards where he’d gotten up from, noting that Bucky still _looked_ asleep, though he probably was by the easy breaths of his breathing. They were too calm to be faked. So James would assume that, yes, he was asleep and he was thankful that their laughing hadn’t woke him up.

The soldier shifted until he was back into the position he was in before, lying on his side, facing the other man, and he slipped an arm under his head, cradling his skull. This would’ve been one hellofa story for Steve… _his_ Steve. _Stevie_ … uh… the Steve from 2016. If he ever returned, he could tell him about this, that he’d met and chatted and even gained a sort of brotherly relation with him, even though he’d labelled him _father_.

Or, no, wait… If James had been gaining memories as Bucky, from his younger self’s point of view of their adventure, would Steve? If he were to meet and have a full, lengthy conversation with him, would the Steve in 2016 get them? It was a possibility.

He’d have to ask him if he re-united with him. But until then, he’d savour this, savour this shred of happiness.

 _Happiness…_ When had it become that? WWII, he was with his past self, having gained a strong relation to him, and he assumed that Bucky enjoyed and liked that he was around. He had a few friends in his comrades and gained at least a fraction of Dugan’s friendship and trust. James even smiled and laughed now, and he assumed it was because of everything and everyone he was currently with. The surroundings were familiar, he had the advantage of knowing what would happen and he already knew the unit in a sense.

And he trusted. He was _trusting_ , Bucky.

He’d changed so much over the past few months and he hadn’t even realized it until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter, nothing harmful, just some fun and bonding and getting to know the guys that he already sort of knew in a sense from who he used to be and all that. What'd you think? Let me know what your favourite part was :)  
> I'd have to say that mine was James realizing that he's changed. From a few thoughts at the start and at the end, of how much different he is after all that time. 
> 
> I thoroughly enjoyed writing this, so I hope you really enjoy reading it :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long awaited chapter, and it really got away from me xD I reached 3.716 words for this one and I really want them to stay at that as I keep updating. I'm proud of this specific chapter because of what I actually accomplished in it and where I end it. This was a really fun one to write and I really hope you like what I did and where it was going. 
> 
> Mostly talking and too much thought from James, Bucky was actually trying to help xD

Only a few days and the snow was heavy, up over their ankles and cold and bitter. James had given two of his spare long-sleeved shirts to Bucky, to put on under his green, wool, forearm length military shirt. The man was thankful, a smile on his face when he tossed him the clothes, but he’d asked the obvious question that the soldier knew would’ve been asked. ‘What about you?’ and ‘Won’t you be cold?’ He’d already explained that spending a lengthy time in Russia had made it easier to deal with colder temperatures, even colder than this. And though he was given a sceptical stare, his _father_ had slipped them on before leaving the debatably warm blankets of the abandoned house in an empty, little town,

As of now though, he was riding in the back of one of the trucks with Bucky, guarding the ammo crates as it was their round. It wasn’t odd to him that the Lieutenant had paired him with the other man. It was actually something he’d expected since they seemed to work all too well with each other, and he was aware that the man sitting across from him thought that it was because he knew how to coordinate from training and already knew how his _father_ fought, using up-close weapons and/or guns, when in fact, it was because they were _his_ moves as well.

He liked the idea actually, Bucky’s one, that he knew his moves from watching him, from learning his moves and gun handling from him. In all honesty, he’d have liked to have had this man as a father. He couldn’t actually remember his parents, even with all the thought he’d put into it, but… his past-self would’ve made a great father. And he was thinking that because he was currently in that situation, being treated as a fully grown adult son. He was on the receiving end of a father-son relationship.

This was time travel, he had to remind himself. The man that he was thinking that would make a great father was previously himself and there was maybe less than a fifty percent chance that he wouldn’t be able to be a father because he had to be the Winter Soldier. And the thought was depressing.

“Hey, you awake, Canon?” he glanced up from the flooring of the truck between his boots and eyed the man across from him, noting the trademark lazy smirk on his lips. He looked as casual and as at home as ever, not aware of his thoughts and what he knew would soon happen. No worry on his face, but instead, a good natured, laid back smile that was a well used expression of ‘ _having a good day_ ’. And it made him feel that much guiltier for not telling him that they had maybe a month and a few days of freedom left.

“Canon?” he’d then realized that he’d been staring, just watching the man and it seemed to have pulled a sliver of concern to his features, his smile dropping just a fraction. And he didn’t like that he may have just made the man worry about him because he just didn’t answer.

“Tired,” James stated, lying to try and throw him off. There was no way he could tell him that wouldn’t hurt him in some way or wouldn’t make him not try to think it over and find a way out of what was coming. This was James, and his need to survive was there way before he was used as a test subject and was reprogrammed. He’d had it there since he was a child, hell, maybe even when he was born. It was _him_. So, it was logical that Bucky would start thinking of it like he was at that moment.

“That’s bullshit,” and then he stopped thinking about it for a second. James eyed him, no telltale expression on his face as they stared at each other. “If you were tired, you wouldn’t tell me,” the other soldier accused as casually as ever, like he knew it was fact, and he really wouldn’t be wrong. Not even a year, barely even that, and the man somehow knew his tells already. Or at least, one of them.

“You’re getting too good at reading me,” he pointed out flatly and looked back down to the metal flooring of the truck, but more towards the centre, between himself and Bucky. He’d caught him out, and pretty fast. He already understood when he wanted to distract him, and now he knew when James was trying to avoid confrontation about something.

“Wouldn’t be a good father if I couldn’t,” his smile was back, a light-hearted chuckle leaving his lips. It quieted surprisingly fast. “In all honesty, it took me a while to understand a few of the ways you hide things,” Bucky added sincerely, bringing James’ gaze back up to watch him sit there, twitching his fingers on the metal of his gun. A mannerism that he’d lost after his Neural reprogramming, but… he did remember that little twitch of his, the little things from before it. They were still there, just hidden under so much re-coding and indoctrination.

“And what am I doing right now?” he tested, eyeing the other man with a calculating gaze. It did nothing to change his trust in the man. He was literally himself and he knew that he wouldn’t do anything to James. They’d already gained each other's loyalty in this time and he knew for a very solid fact that _Bucky wouldn’t hurt his son_. It was a dick move to use that as a factual reason as to why he was safe with him, but it was a reason nonetheless.

“You’re distracting me. Telling me that you’re tired, and making a conversation out of this is you trying to distract me from something you were thinking about when you looked at me,” he was completely right and it was strange for someone to actually catch him out that easily. Not even Steve could when they finally re-united after all this time. He had no idea of what he was thinking and this man had him pinned on the spot with a correct assumption. “Am I close?” he then asked, already seeming to have a smug smile fractionally appearing on his face. He already knew the answer from his lingering silence.

“Dead on,” he replied flatly, clearing his drying throat right after and glancing back at the metal flooring, blinking a few times at it. He couldn’t shake the understandable unease that he felt from having been understood in a manneristic case.

“You gonna tell me what went through that thick head of yours?” the way he asked it wasn’t expectant, like he was actually waiting for him to say exactly what he thought. It was… a choice.  “Can’t be that I’m distractingly handsome, because you’ve seen the same face in the mirror for most of your life,” he stated with a humoured tone. He was teasing to lighten the mood. And James was still stumped on the fact that he hadn’t expected anything from him in a form of an actual answer, not expecting him to tell him out right that he was troubled by thoughts of Zola, the HYDRA base and that his _father_ would be the first person to actually survive the deranged scientist's experiments only to later become the Winter Soldier.

“I forgot how _humble_ you were,” James replied sarcastically, having actually felt the mood lighten and even with his still screwed up thoughts and knowledge. He needed a distraction himself, instead of distracting Bucky from questioning him on what he knew and what he was thinking.

“I’m as humble as they come. Now spill,” again, it wasn’t expectant. It was a request, but not a pushy one, like he’d actually force his tongue or order an answer. He was simply asking and requesting that he say something to ease the pressure he was bringing on himself. James couldn’t tell him, for a number of reasons. One being that he didn’t know if it’d change something. If he told Bucky, he was sure that the man would try to devise a plan to get out of it.

“I’m not sure I should say,” he lightly shook his head in return, keeping his head low as he glanced up at the other soldier through his bangs and lashes. He could see his calculating gaze aimed at him, like he already had his answer from what he’d said.

“Then it’s something to do with _time_ ,” his younger-self stated more than questioned. He must’ve derived his answer from James’ and thought that that was all he’d get out of him, considering that it was a very touchy subject in his situation. He was afraid that even speaking about it could cause something different. He was already fractionally changing Bucky’s mind when he saw and spoke to him.

He’d had memories from himself, those ones that he was creating with the soldier in them. He’d been picking up different feelings, thoughts. He’d remembered different things and emotion from back in the day when he _was_ Bucky and saw Jamie. The man felt a strong kinship, a familial bond and excitement that he knew he never felt, not even as the Sergeant. He’d become just a bit more comfortable with being there and even seemed to enjoy the time they spent together in the War, in only a few months. It was like he found a common ground in fighting with him against the Nazi and he enjoyed it. He knew that he was trigger happy, both of the still were, but he’d never found a type of content in murdering opponents.

“Yeah, but I don’t know whether I should tell you. If it’s all set in stone, then I can, but…” James shook his head again, trailing off and trying to ignore his thoughts. They were doing anyone any good, James even less.

“You don’t know if it is, or it’s not and you’re worried you might change something,” Bucky supplied for his unfinished sentence. It was a good add on, fitted perfectly for what he was stuck between assuming. He wasn’t too sure and he wouldn’t want to explain if it really did mess with something in the timeline he was literally dropped into.

“Right,” James confirmed. He was actually thankful that they were the only two guarding the massive ammo boxes at in the truck, a few of the other soldiers in the unit hanging back, far enough that they couldn’t hear this ridiculous conversation. Or it would be ridiculous to them. “I don’t know if it'll turn out worse if I tell you and then try to avoid it either,” he added onto Bucky’s stated supplied sentence.

“Okay, so… what if you tell me and we _not_ avoid it,” he suggested, James watching as the man leaned up and then back into the bars behind him, the bars that held the massive swamp green tarp over the back of the truck. He’s even shrugged with his inputted option.

“Then there’d be no point in telling you,” the soldier eased out with a sigh, his mood having dropped again during this conversation. He’d at least tried to stray the discussion in another direction, but Bucky was clearly stubborn and drew it back to what he hadn’t wanted to talk about. James was just as stubborn as the other, obviously, since they were the same man in reality, and if they were actually father and son, then he’d definitely get that adamant stubbornness from him in the gene pool.

“There _would_ be a point,” speaking of stubborn, Bucky was still talking about his troubled thoughts from the time travel paradox issues. “Clearly, it has to be something, because you’re thinking too hard on it and it’s weighing on you,” he stated thoughtfully, definitely having studied him for some time to have a correct assumption like that. He must’ve watched him from the moment they’d jumped into the back of the truck and James hadn’t noticed. It was a tell for deep into his own thoughts he’d sank.

“It’s not-,” he’d started flatly, only to be cut off abruptly by Bucky’s disagreement.

“Yeah, it is,” the soldier spoke with an admirable persistent, drawing a huff from him. “Jamie, whatever you know’s gonna happen, is probably gonna happen anyway. You’re just one man, even if you’re a _walking tank_ and a _one man army_. It’s not that I doubt you or anything, but I doubt that you could change a lot, unless you manage to kill Hitler,” he knew that Bucky never doubted him after they actually got on the road together, after he’d left Alaric and Hannah to be with his _father_. He just couldn’t see how one man could change such a large scale event, how a single person could turn the table and turn a war in their favour.

He hadn’t seen his friend yet, his best friend. And at this point, right then, James was a much more capable man than even the Captain. He was more than trained and more than enough to change the entire war. All he’d need was a ride to Auschwitz, since that was where Hitler would be heading to commence with the remaining gassings would occur.

“I could,” he mentioned knowing full well that he definitely could’ve killed him with a simple bullet from a long way away. Long enough that there would be no guards roaming the vicinity.

“I’m pretty sure you could too, but you’re here with me and this unit,” Bucky stated, and it was odd that he actually sounded… like a parent. He had that tone about him, one where he was pointing out a fact and justifying it. It made it that much stranger that James found it refreshing. “Whatever’s going on in that head a’yours is screwing you up inside. It’s distracting you and making you over-think on what you could do to help or change something, and you’re afraid that it might change it for the worse,” the tone then turned softer, slightly… comforting, like an older generation, wider in telling him that he could do it, but just think before acting. “Don’t over-think it, war is simple,” Bucky shrugged and James swallowed around his dry throat. He really actually felt younger, or just young in general compared to the soldier across from him.

He really imagined this as a father really talking to his son. But… telling him not to think only made him think _more_. He could’ve taken Hitler out, could’ve gone on ahead and taken Zola out, and Schmidt. And he could’ve destroyed his massive plane that Steve would freeze himself in. He could’ve done so many things and saved so many people, and yet… he was in an ammo truck, guarding said ammo with his past-self, who he’d lied to, calling him his brother, and then father to get closer. He was simply a WWII soldier again, but not a Sergeant.

He shook his head and stared down between his boots. “Why am I here,” his voice came out deep, quiet and gritty, flat and void of emotion and very much like how he’d have answered to ‘ _Status Report_ ’ as the Winter Soldier.

“You said a glowing rock sent you he-,” Bucky answered his rhetorical question literally, James deciding to cut him off there and turn the rhetorical literal from his _father’s_ answer. Because at this point, any kind of answer would’ve been better than the ones appearing and fading in his own mind. None of them were helping and they were just depressing him at that point.

“No. Here, specifically,” James’ tone was still as flat and empty as ever as he glanced up at the man across from him. “I could’ve been sent to 2007, or 1973, or even 1991,” for a tremendously and obviously regrettable and self-loathing reason. “But instead, I end up in 1943, with you. Why?” he genuinely asked, staring the other soldier dead in the eye and not breaking the gaze-lock that he initiated easily. Bucky had opened his mouth, silently closing it and opening again, like he was really trying to come up with an answer, but then closed it again.

Only a few long, silent seconds later, and his lips parted.

“The world works in weird ways,” James had nearly rolled his eyes and looked away when the cliché sentence left his mouth, but he resisted. “Maybe you’re here because that fucked up magic rock thought it’d be funny,” it was a better answer than ‘ _The world works in weird ways_ ’. Though it still wasn’t the best.

“I doubt I’d be sent here for shits and giggles,” he dead-panned and leaned back against the metal bars behind him, his gun hanging between his thighs, much like Bucky’s.

“Maybe you’re here to learn,” it was an interesting answer, but he already knew about everything that happened in this time because he’d lived it, and then re-lived it when he decided to take that trip to the Smithsonians. All he’d learnt there was everything he knew from WWII and even then, he understood from the memories and nightmares that returned to him.

“I already learned about WWII, I know who you are, who’s in this unit and in others, I know about Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter and the Nazi’s and Hitler and-,” he was gradually getting frustrated, a spark in his mind heating up his chest in resigned irritation. James huffed hotly and frowned, his brow knitting in the centre and pointing down. He’d paused, stopping himself from getting any angrier. This wasn’t the timeline, Steve, Tony, that magic rock, not Bucky either, or the Winter Soldier. This was James, this was his thoughts and his obvious over-thinking, to which Bucky was right in observing him and pointing that little fact out.

“Yeah… but now I’m thinking,” the soldier huffed again and glanced up at him, still frowning irritatedly from himself. He could see that Bucky was frowning too, but more thoughtfully, as if testing an idea in his own head, thinking deeply enough that he might voice it. “Do _you_ know who _you_ are,” and it threw him.

His frown instantly disappeared as he stared Bucky, his mind and thoughts completely breaking and his concentrating and frustration faded so only the sentence was standing there, in bold text. ‘ _Do you know who you are_ ’. He understood the question, but the meaning that the man put behind it was… odd. He wasn’t at all sure how to answer. So...

“What?” James’ tone was quiet, light, soft and very puzzled. He was perplexed and unaware. The soldier watched as his past-self slipped his gun strap over his forearm and reached his fingers together, beginning to count as he spoke.

“Dehumanization, Memory removal, Neural reprogramming, Physical enhancement-…” Bucky paused in counting his fingers and then continued after seeming to find what he wanted. “-Objectification and weaponizing,” he then finished, directing his gaze firmly on James and he then leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You remember going through all of that?” he really wished he didn’t.

“Yeah,” his tone was flat and void again, trying not to let his thoughts go there after all this time. Remembering wasn’t a very fond activity of his, especially when he’d sleep and he knew that even Bucky was aware of that. He’d seen him and even held him through the few he’d had. James was more than grateful to the other soldier.

“Then you’d know that you really wouldn’t be the same man after it. I imagine that you’d be a completely different person, and you even said that you were more like me, from this time, before it all happened,” he’d said that, he remembered. In fact, he was him before it all happened. And it made sense, the way Bucky explained it. It made more sense was less complicated to understand. He’d simplified it for him. “Tell me something… am I there with you? In 2016? Am I anything like I am right now?” he _was_ in 2016, before a magic stone hit him and then he was thrown back in time to re-live his Sergeant days… it actually got a little complicated in his head for a moment, because he was talking with Bucky, who’d asked if there was another version of himself in the future and that made up three Bucky’s in his mind including himself and he was sure he’d get a headache soon if he didn’t shut off that thought.

“You’re there, but… not exactly the same as you are, here,” it wasn’t a lie. It was complete truth. He wasn’t the same man mentally, but physically, he was. Minus the arm, that is.

“Then maybe, you were sent back here to meet me. To see who you used to be, to remember,” to see himself as he once was. Meeting himself wouldn’t have been an accident or coincidence if that were the case. It meant that he was there for the specific reason of re-creating himself, maybe reversing himself. Was this really why he’d ended up in 1943 again? To reconnect with his past-self in more ways than one?

If so… it really did make sense. He’d changed after meeting Bucky. It was easy to see. He trusted more, he smiled and laughed and had actually let his guard down on a few occasions and he’d even smoked and drank with a few of the men in the unit, it was all uncharacteristic of who he was back in 2016, during the airport battle and in that HYDRA base with Steve and Tony.

James really had changed-... _Jamie_ … he wasn’t James at this point. Jamie ‘Canon’ Barnes seemed to fit better.

“Revelations can be a bitch sometimes,” he raised his gaze to Bucky on the other end of the truck, seeing the return of the laid back smile, his arms crossed with his gun still hanging from his forearm. He must’ve been watching _Jam-ie_ going through a range of emotions, his book open for the man to read the pages.

“I think I like this one,” Jamie smiled softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... this chapter... right here. 
> 
> is one of my utmost favourites right now. I had so many thoughts of my own and how I wanted to write James, or Jamie. I may as well call him Jamie. I mean, he's deemed himself that now. Jamie it is. 
> 
> Please, please, please let me know what you thought of this specific chapter. I'm so proud of it and I'd really love to hear what you have to say and what you felt. It'd mean the world to me for just this chapter. It really pulled at my heart-strings while typing and the end was the most thrilling part to me, as well as the part where Jamie was actually getting irritated.
> 
> Also, I'm really gonna try to keep them longer, definitely over 3.000 words, because this story is more than worth the effort :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a feel good-filler chapter. The next one would be the last of that, me thinks. The Canon will more than likely start up at the end of the next chapter, so be fucking prepared for shit hitting fans!!! And not the ones you have on ceilings! I mean like... fans. xD
> 
> Thanks for sticking with all the filler up until now(next chapter).
> 
> Oh, by the way... it was 4.811 words this time. I think they keep getting longer. I wanna stick between here and 3.000, maybe 4.000 I don't know. The chapters would probably be this long because I'd have fleshed out the canon into a chapter. Meh... I'll see what happens when I get there xD

Two weeks and a half. They had two weeks and a few days left until the unit would be seized by Schmidt's men, and he still hadn’t told Bucky yet. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, he could, pretty easily, but he was afraid and that was stopping him from saying a damn word about any of it. And what made it that little bit more stressful than it already was, Jamie almost closed himself off from him. His head had told him to back off, make some distance, but he ignored it in favour of taking Bucky’s silence on the matter as acceptance. He’d stayed quiet and didn’t ask after the truck ride together. The man just… carried on like he hadn’t said a word and just carried on with the whole father-son thing.

Jamie wanted to tell him, he really did, but he wasn’t sure whether it would’ve caused more trouble and made their situation worse. He wanted to assume that it wasn’t set in stone, because then he could save Bucky, but it was a fifty-fifty chance that it would’ve gone bad, even crappier than it’d already been. _Speaking from **the experience**_.

And he’d rather that none of it be set in stone, because he was there for no reason other than to _find himself_ in his previous self and be the man he used to be, or some semblance of the man he once was. That, he was subconsciously doing without really needing to focus on it. He’d opened up so much over the year that it was an equalization to whiplash. Hell, if he ever got back, he was sure that Steve would’ve been able to see that massive difference in him. From that hobo-esque, Winter Soldier loner with so many issues, to a somewhat trusting soldier of WWII, another form of Bucky from the old era, but with a changed name and personality. He wasn’t as dark as he was and he could see that. The weight he’d used to have on his shoulders had lightened, and all because he followed himself through Normandy and Germany and spent almost _all_ of his time with his _father_.

The same man, but a different person.

Only seconds later, still depressingly thinking about his situation, and he had to stop. His thoughts were abruptly halted because he was pelted in the face by something cold, cold enough to sting as the white flakes fell from his face to his pants and then boots.

“HAH!” he threw his gaze in the direction of where the bark of laughter came from and saw Dumdum holding his stomach while in hysterics. “Fuckin’ gotchu!” the soldier continued to laugh, needing to lean against a wide tree. A wide tree with snow heavily weighing on its dead branches. Jamie let a smirk tug at the corner of his lips and quietly dropped the firewood to the ground, where two other soldiers were working on putting them together to build said fire.

He silently stepped around behind the tree and Dugan and took a steady and fast run at the tree, jumping sidelong with his metal shoulder and bicep hammering into the thick trunk. He heard the loud bang on him running into it and then a yelled ‘GAH!’ and then a loud slush sound. He felt flakes dropping onto him shoulders and head, but not a lot of it. He huffed and rounded the tree, seeing a huge pile of snowing the top of a hat and red hair peeking from the very top of the snow pile.

“ _He_ got _chu_!” one of the soldiers at the fire laughed and pointed and Jamie joined in with some deep chuckling as Dumdum shook his head, managing to get his shoulder out.

“Fuckin’ freezin’,” the redhead cursed and shook himself out of the rest of the snow, stepping out and quickly grabbing some snow as he got himself out of there. It was fast, started fast. The snowball was coming at him and he ducked behind the tree, reaching down to the ground in a swift movement and then balling up a ton of white flakes before darting around the tree and managing to just skim the man’s jacket as Dugan jumped behind another tree.

A second later, another snowball came at him, from the redhead and he ducked just in time, only to hear a loud “ _Hey!_ ” ring out from behind him. He swiftly turned around to see one of the guys working on the fire with snow covering half his face and his shoulder, looking a little irritated. The other guy starting laughing and pointed. The first reached down and grabbed a pile of white and didn’t bother to ball it up before tossing it at the other’s face. There was obvious retaliation and they both ended up fighting in the snow, rolling around and trying to make the other eat the white.

Dugan was actually not that far from him, both laughing at the scene, even Jamie. But it didn’t last long when Dumdum threw another that he’d been hiding behind his back. It landed more towards the back of his head, to only then drop into the neck of his jacket, and it was damn cold. He shook lightly and reached down, quickly balling some snow up and threw it his way.

“Snowball war!” someone yelled deeply off to the side, and it _did_ , indeed, turn into a snowball war. A few men turned into a group, and then the group turned into a mass gathering of the men that weren’t working and some that should’ve been. Men around the area gravitated fast and there was snowballs flying everywhere, hitting him, been thrown by him. And admittedly, he did use some of his training to avoid a majority of the balls.

He’d ducked and darted behind trees and behind the truck, grabbing snow whenever he could to make a ball and then throw it in the direction of the one that’d come flying at him. Funny thing was, the guys he’d been smoking and drinking with not too long ago were aiming for him, same with Dugan. They were practically ganging up, even though they were still hitting each other too.

Jamie felt another ball hit him, dead in the face and he had to wipe himself off, his hand running over the skin around his cheeks and eyes. And when he could see again, he tried ducking back as two of the guys came at him with a bigger snowball, throwing it at him with a pretty decent amount of effort. He’d instantly ended up on his back with a grunt, thick snow covering his chest, neck and half his face, with all the guys laughing, and he grinned as he quickly got to his feet, the wet coldness seeping through the openings of his bullet-vest to his shirts. He shook himself.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed with a little whine, feeling it freeze through to his skin, and he was mildly surprised that he actually swore, taking a second to register it before getting back into the fight. The soldier grabbed a hefty amount of snow and balled it up. He threw it at the obvious ringleader in the group and watched with a chuckle as he fell back, snow covering him like it did Jamie.

“Hey, guys-!” he’d ducked, just as Dugan threw another ball at him and he looked over his shoulder to see Bucky with snow over his face and he jumped back, hissing and yelping with the cold seeping through the shirts and down the front of them. “ _Oh my fuck!_ ” he pranced a little, trying to get it off with shaking and brushing his hands over himself. Frantic movement and a few seconds later, the man was staring over at them, eyeing them with a not-too-happy look on his face.

“He started it!” Dumdum instantly pointed at him, like that was all that was needed to explain this snow war.

“He’s bullshittin’,” he accused back, noting with another peek of surprise that he had a stronger Brooklyn accent when he’d retorted, like Bucky’s.

“I don't care who fuckin’ started it,” the other man paused, gradually reaching down to grab at a load of snow. And Jamie could see a smirk tugging at the soldiers’ lips as he balled it up and stood again, staring at them with a mischievous glint in his eyes. An instant later and he ducked out of the way of a soaring white ball, the snow flying passed him and hitting Dugan in the face with a hard slap and yell.

He turned to see that the guy had been right behind him when the ball was thrown and he couldn’t stifle the deep chuckle, only for it to be cut off when one hit _him_ straight after and landing squarely at the side of his head. He felt the coldness freeze through his hair to his scalp, and it was so easy to compare it to the Cryofreeze pod that he used to regularly be kept in. But he thankfully had enough control over his own mind at this point, that it was only a fleeting thought. He’d thank the passing year for that. All the time spent with this unit and his past-self had helped him in so many ways.

“The hell you laughin’ about, Canon?” Bucky then laughed and Jamie gradually turned to look at him, war in his own eyes, and a promise of revenge. His smirk grew a little darker and he was staring the man dead in the eye, keeping their gazes locked tight.

“Dumdum,” he called flatly and quietly, already hearing the other man’s response behind him, cursing and light coughing. He wiped himself down and then he was standing at his side, more than raring to get some payback for the snowballs to the face.

“Yeah,” was his devious replay, having the same tone as his own as they managed to get the same idea. “I gotchu,” he added before they started towards the Sergeant in a fast sprint.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky breathed right before they both tackled him to the white ground, Jamie being as careful as ever with his metal arm as they repositioned and held his past-self down. He easily kept him there as Dugan quickly grabbed at the snow and then the man’s shirt, lifting it to pile under the fabric. “Aaaghh! You fuckers!” he screamed and thrashed around, legs flailing wildly and his body writhing violently. His arms were pinned by Jamie, so there was no hope in being able to flee, which made both the torturous soldiers laugh and continue. “Bastards!” he yelled again, still trying to throw himself around and out of his grip, which wasn’t going to happen unless he intentionally let go. He could hear a few of the other men laughing along with this scene as well, while still attacking each other with snowballs and tackling them much like what he and Dugan did with Bucky. Who was still yelling and trying to fight back as the redhead continued to shovel snow under his shirts.

“Hey!” at that shout, everyone suddenly stopped, silence engulfing the entire area where the snowball war broke out. Jamie snapped his gaze towards the voice, seeing the Lieutenant standing there with a surprisingly straight face, snow covering him too, so he must’ve got in on the fun at some point as well. “We all had our fun, and I feel like a complete fuck for ending it, but it’ll be dark soon,” he wasn’t wrong. The sky was already changing shades and it’d soon be too dark to sort out sleeping arrangements and reports and the fires that were needed to be put up to keep them warm throughout the night. “Get back to work,” he then ordered, shaking himself down as he turned away and went about whatever he’d been doing beforehand.

“A’right, let go, you fucks,” Bucky’s voice was shaken, shivering with the cold while he stared up at him, still trying to twist his arms out of the soldier’s grip. Jamie let go and pushed himself to stand, bending and reaching out an arm for his _father_ to grab a hold of.

“You deserved it,” he heard Dugan accuse as the soldier pulled him to stand and saw all the white pour out from under his shirts, Bucky jumping almost comically as he tried to get the cold away from his skin.

“You threw first!” he accused back loudly, practically skipping to a stop and pulling his shirts away from his skin to shake them and get the snow away. Jamie maybe had another two shirts in his duffle bag, and he’d gladly loan them to him. There was no need to ask or anything. His bag was in the luggage truck, with a load of others and thankfully, Bucky painted Canon onto the side with some camo paint, it’d be easier to find in all of the very similar piles of bags.

“Canon ducked!” he zoned back in after hearing his nickname, catching back up with the conversation fast and then noting that Dugan was instantly staring at him. “You weren’t supposed to duck!” he called like it was a rule. Why wouldn’t he duck when something was thrown towards his face? And besides that, it was reflex, a majority of those ducks were actions he couldn’t have helped.

“And what? Let myself to get pelted by snow and give you the satisfaction of actually managing to hit me?” he shot back with a surprising amount of sass that even Bucky scoffed with him as Jamie crossed his arms and turned to the side, heading back towards the fire that he’d been setting with two other guys, Bucky and Dugan seeming to follow behind, though Dumdum was there to keep retorting.

“Yeah,” he declared with a firm matter-of-fact like tone. He scoffed again and dropped to a crouch when he reached the fireplace where one of the two that had been there before was working. He started picking up and angling the sticks and small planks together, pointing them up.

“Like hell that’ll happen,” he shot back with a simple smug smirk aimed at the redhead. He liked pissing off the soon-to-be Howling Commando, watching the frustration and anger bubble. He remembered a vague feeling of still enjoying while being Bucky himself, before HYDRA and the train. They were friends, having found a common ground after joining the 107th and became acquainted, and it was then that he figured out that it was fun to piss the man off, but knew when to stop.

“So _did_ you hit him?” Bucky asked Dugan as he crouched and started helping them with the wood, piling it up nicely and stacking some off to the side to stoke the flames later on into the night. Whoever was keeping watch nearby at the time, he assumed.

“Yeah! All the ones I threw hit him,” Dumdum sounded pleased, like they’d believe him. He knew for a fact that there were witnesses around that wouldn’t vouch for that. Three had hit and or skimmed him and the others had been ducked and dodged, not even coming close.

“One or two managed to hit him, but that’s not including that big one we tossed at you,” the soldier working on the fire with them supplied, laughing and bumping shoulders with him. That big one surprised him, he never saw it coming until it was right on him and by then, he’d ended up on the floor with a huge pile of snow covering him. It was fun, that whole snowball war was maybe one of his top favourite moments of being there in 1943 with Bucky and the unit.

“‘Cause I let you,” Jamie replied with a scoff, not admitting that he’d been taken off guard by that big one, but he was also addressing Dugan with the snowballs that had been thrown his way and actually didn’t hit him.

“Like shit! I hit you with pure skill!” he shot back, not seeming to take that he were messing with him. He knew that the guy would take it a bit more personal with him, but only because of the lack of trust between them, the suspicion that the soldier had for Jamie. They could joke and have fun with snowball fights and stuff, but as soon as it came to comparing and skills, he never took anything that Canon said as a joke or a tease and taunt. It usually ended up with Dugan arguing and trying one-up him in whatever they were talking about and Jamie never said anything after the first few taunts to rile him up that little bit. And then Bucky would be involved, stopping what was going on and separating them because he didn’t want his friend and son fighting.

And he was sure that he knew that Jamie could instantly floor him without putting any effort into it.

“ _Because-I-let-you_ ,” he pronounced the syllables, making the short sentence perfectly clear to the other soldier. And it wasn’t arguing if it was fact. “S’okay, we all have performance issues,” he finished with a very personal taunt, seeing the anger boil into his face.

“Ouch,” the soldier, Johansson, hissed, not looking up from his station because he knew it’s piss Red off even more. Acknowledging him was normally something that aggravated him even more, which was mildly funny.

When Jamie looked up at him for a second, he noticed the way that he was trying to breath, like he was trying to calm himself. That was new. He saw his pissed off exterior gradually settle to a _mildly_ pissed off exterior. A breathing exercise and he was faintly surprised that he’d learnt that just to manage to tolerate Jamie when he was in this funny mood to agitate him.

“And what about you? Looks like you’re goin’ through a midlife crisis with hair like that,” he’d admit that the hair was a pain, but it was bearable, rarely got in the way and it was a method of distinction between himself and Bucky now. Plus he never really thought about cutting it or  keeping it regularly tied up in a band, even if it _had_ gotten longer again over this year. He just… left it alone, only tying it up before they were about to sleep.

“Just because you can’t work the long hair, it doesn’t give you an excuse to dis mine,” he replied flatly and shifted back, along with Bucky, as Johansson set the fire alight, flames slowly starting to spark under the wood on the inside. It took a few seconds, but it did eventually flutter out and take the underside of the planks and stick.

“Speaking of hair, you need a trim,” he glanced over to Bucky, seeing the trademark lazy smile he was wearing, a sort of fondness in his eyes as he looked him over.

“I do?” he asked rhetorically. He knew he needed to shorten it up. He just didn’t bother. Like he thought, he just left it alone to grow. It was actually at his shoulders now, draping over them slightly and making it look like he had actual curtains. Jamie still didn’t understand why HYDRA never cut his hair. Wouldn’t it have been easier to keep his hygiene in check if his hair had been short? Washing him would’ve been way simpler now that he thought about it.

“Yeah. You could braid it at this point,” Bucky teased, reaching out and grabbing a few strands and pulling away while still holding them to show how long they actually were before dropping them. “When we get the free time and I manage to find scissors, I’ll cut it for you,” he chuckled deeply and reached his palms out to the fire, warming himself up. He was sure that he was still freezing because he was still mildly shaking.

“Don’t make it too short, or we won’t know which Barnes is which,” Johansson laugh as he stood up, waiting for a second before turning away.

“Nah, Canon’s admittedly buffer than me,” the Sergeant pointed out with a widened smirk as the other soldier then walked off with a scoff of acknowledgement. “Won’t be hard to tell us apart,” it sounded more like he directed that at Jamie himself than anyone else. Honestly, he knew of more ways than one or two to be able to tell them apart, the obvious ones being… well, obvious.

“And that shiny arm a’his,” Dugan started up, and Canon was thankful that he waited for soldiers to be out of earshot to say it like it was an everyday thing to point out. At least he knew what privacy and boundaries were. Yeah, it’d make him a bit of a hypocrite to say it, but everyone knew that the ‘performance issues’ thing was a joke. There was proof that Dumdum worked like any other man. No one knew about his arm apart from Bucky and Dugan himself, so joking about it wouldn’t be funny. No one would understand.

“I’m gonna hit you with my _shiny arm_ if you keep pointin’ it out,” he retorted with a dry smirk, warning him off of the subject like he’d done so many times already. The man just wouldn’t drop it, even when Bucky told him to. It was like the limb was a constant thing in his head, even after he saw it the first time. It’d been a sort of accident. Dugan had been on patrol with another guy and he came back to the room he, Bucky and Dumdum had been squatting in and while he was changing his shirts, he walked in and saw the shining metal of his shoulder as he’d just about slipped his long-sleeve on.

There’d been questions about the star, but he just told them that he didn’t know what it was for. The Sergeant left that subject where it was, but Dugan was too persistent for his own damn good.

“Oh I’m shaking in his stockins’,” there was a long pause, both Bucky and Canon flicking their eyes towards each other to share a very similar expression and then.

“Did he just admit to wearing stockins’?” his father asked with a deadpanned tone, as flat as ever and he almost scoffed at the thought, though it was more terrifying and scarring than anything. Dugan in stockings? That was… Jamie physically shuddered.

“I think he did,” he replied, creasing his brows and swallowing thickly.

“I think I’m more scared of him wearing those than the Nazis,” Bucky continued and he was inwardly laughing at this point, clearly amused by what was going on. As well as the guy was giving them more fuel subjects to taunt him with. He’d unintentionally given him something else to use against him.

“I’m right here,” said man pointed out in mild irritation and they both simultaneously turned to look at him, in perfect synchronization.

“We know,” they spoke in unison, sounding rather stereo-esque. They stopped and laughed, turning to each other and then they were almost in hysterics. It felt great, a full chest laugh that vibrated through him.

“Now that was freaky,” Dugan pointed out before stepping away to do something, or to go somewhere else that wasn’t with them.

* * *

He was still shaking, just that much more from before and the dropping temperature. He could actually _see_ him shivering in the dark, his back facing him and his shoulders were vibrating and Bucky just kept shifting, like he was trying to get comfortable. It made him feel guilty for what he and Dumdum did earlier, and he couldn’t get up to get the shirts because once everyone laid down for the night, that was it. Especially at what time it was. It was a chance that they’d be mistaken and then end up with bullet holes. A while ago, when he and the guys were crowded around the fire, smoking and drinking, the fact that they were sitting made it obvious that they were from the unit.

So, heading over to the trucks alone would probably get him shot. He had another option though. His arm, the metal one. He had that Coolant System built in and he could use it to warm the man up as an apology for before.

“Bucky,” he called out quietly, trying not to be so loud that it’d wake everyone else up.

“Mmm,” was his reply, a tired and slightly faltered hum. Jamie huffed and silently hefted himself up onto his elbow, reaching out with his free hand to pat lightly at the man’s shoulder. There was a twitch and longer inhale, but nothing other than that. He rolled his eyes and shook his head and then-.

“Dad,” he called in a whisper, that word seeming to get his attention. He shifted and rolled over a fraction to look at him over his shoulder, his brow creased and looking at him like he just surprised him. Obviously calling him ‘ _dad_ ’ must’ve done just that.

“What?”

“C’mere,” he waved him over, giving him the hand gesture. “Get closer,” Jamie requested. He had an idea of how to keep him warm besides his arm. They were close to the fire and he could’ve had his back to that, his metal arm heating up over his chest and side too, and he could give him his jacket.

“Why?” Bucky asked, shifting just a bit more to get a better view of him.

“Just do it,” he flatly requested as he sat up and unzipped the front of his coat, slipping it over his shoulders to reveal the long-sleeves he was wearing. He then dropped the one-sleeved jacket into his lap and gestured to his _father_ again.

“Why’d you take it off?” Bucky whispered urgently and instantly sat up with a concerned and confused look, like he was doing something stupid that he didn’t understand. It wasn’t stupid and he was sure that he should’ve understood by the fact that he stripped it off and wanted him to get closer, plus he should’ve known that Jamie could’ve seen that he was freezing.

“For you to wear it, _duh_ ,” he replied obviously, noting that he did listen either way, shifting closer. Though he knew it was more for them being able to talk without needing to whisper so quietly, instead of getting closer to take the coat.

“What? No, you’ll be cold,” he barked quietly, his brow furrowing and pointing down in the centre, like he was giving him a _telling off_ by his father.

“I won’t. The cold can’t touch me. Was trained in Russia, remember?” he reminded flatly and passed his jacket over, holding it out by the collar, but he never reached to grab it, didn’t lift a hand to it, even when he gestured to it and held it closer with a deadpanned expression, like he was a fool to not grab it.

“Jamie, no. I can’t take your jacket,” he stood firmly by his decision. Though he knew one way to change his mind, a bit of a low blow in his opinion, but fact was fact, whichever way someone looked at it.

“I can’t die from the cold, you can,” he muttered, sending him a gradually dimming expression, and it seemed to be working, what with the way he bit at the inside of his lips. “I’d rather you not, so put the damn thing on,” he creased his own browline, staring at him with a force.

“I’m supposed to be doin’ this shit for you, kid,” he replied sharply as he snatched the jacket and slipped it up and over his shoulders, zipping it up straights after. One arm was still on show, with no sleeve, but that’d be the arm he’d keep warm with his metal one.

“You’ll have plenty of time to,” he scoffed quietly and then dropped back down to the snow, gesturing towards him again as he shifted just slightly so he was angled towards the fire. “Lie down. You’re gonna have a first-hand experience of my Coolant System,” he stated as Bucky did actually listen the first time, moving so he was at an angle as well, his head now resting on his abdomen from where he was lying sidelong to him.

“That’s the heater thing in your arm, right?” he’d spoke even quieter, if that were possible, to keep the arm a secret from whoever might’ve been awake.

“Good, you remembered,” he smiled, draping his metal arm over the man’s own before he started up the heater, hearing the very, _very_ faint ‘ _whir_ ’ of the inner machinery.

“I’m not that stupid,” Jamie huffed a laugh at the almost indignant, pouted sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed all the emotion up til here :) Obviously, there'll be more emotion going on. I seriously/literally made myself cry the other day because I thought ahead to future chapters and the dialogue seriously destroyed my heartstrings. I was in tears and it hurt like hell just thinking about it. And when I get around to those chapters, I hope I make you guys cry too, if the good emotional way... if there's such a thing- ROLL WITH IT! I'M TIRED!! 
> 
> Anyway, please let me know which part's your favourite or which part had you feeling all warm and floaty!! xD For me, I loved where Bucky joined in with the snowball fight and was then tackled by both Jamie and Dugan. I had fun writing that part, but also, the end when Jamie gave up all the heat to Bucky. Actually, this entire chapter was great fun to write :) 
> 
> Let me know what you think, I love talking to you guys!! :D


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, guys. But here it is, the chapter where shit hits the fan!! :D From here on, it should follow the Captain America: First Avenger movie itself. :) Hope ya'll enjoy!!

Bells were going off in his head, distracting him, sharpening his mind and keeping him awake and it wasn’t a good thing. It was the complete opposite. Those two weeks and a half passed by too fast for his liking and it was meant to be that night that they’d be taken. The night the 107th went MIA. Jamie was tense, unfocused and all too twitchy and jittery and he was sure that Bucky saw it in him, saw the unease leaving him like bullets from a machine-gun. Every quiet moment was spent with him in silence, with his leg bouncing up and down fast, like an obvious show that he was out of character, an obvious sign of ‘ _hey, something’s gonna happen_ ’.

He couldn’t stop it, he was too out of it, he was too unprepared. He didn’t know what to do, how to stop it, how to save them. He could take out a small troop, no problem, but this was a unit vs unit. He remembered that much. He remembered the unit waking up to yells and gunfire and he was hit as soon as he got up for his gun. Bucky was caught as soon as he woke up, basically.  

Jamie sat closer to the edge of camp than necessary, keeping his guard up and sharp and his body ready to act. His leg was still bouncing, a bit faster than before and he knew that he was practically ignoring everyone in favour of keeping a vigilant eye out for Nazi, for any signs that maybe they were coming earlier than he remembered. Anything could happen and he was only like this because he still didn’t know whether or not everything was set in stone. He still had no damn clue and it was adding on to his stress, increasing it and making him way antsier.

The soldier took a silent breath, his eyes draping over every sliver of detail ahead and to the sides of him, watching guardedly. It was this guarded exterior that had him reacting in a split second when he heard the bootsteps behind him. Instantly acting on instinct, he grabbed the hand that had reached out to him and gripped hard, swiftly spinning and coming face to face with his _father_. He heard and saw the gasp and grunt, the man trying to twist his hand out of the grip on his own instinct and they both stopped, Bucky seeming to compose a tad faster.

Jamie said nothing and let go, dropping the man’s limb. He wanted to apologise, already seeing the attempt at hiding the faint pain he’d caused. He dropped his gaze and turned away, his brow knitting dangerously and the anger was turned on himself. He was too mentally screwed up at that point. He was irritated, frustrated, tired and antsy.

“ _Jamie-_ Calm down,” it was like the man could see him, like really _see_ him. He saw through his _composer_ to see the active, angry, irked and tired man behind the exterior. Bucky was like a stone right then, not seeming too taken by what just happened, or by Jamie in general. It was like he was expecting it, when really, he shouldn’t have. It was odd, but he was more like an older, protective sibling instead of a _father_ , like he posed from Jamie’s lie.

The soldier took another breath, sitting a bit too tensely on the rock he’d been using as a chair. He swallowed thickly and tried to relax, resting his elbows on his knees with his finger twined between them. Though, he was still too tense and taut to really be calm enough to seem it. He dropped his head down, staring at the dirt covered ground with the other soldier stepping around to his front, leaning down, kneeling there. Out of the two, he was clearly the calmest. Though, he obviously had no idea of what was going on, or what was going to happen that night.

“Calm,” he said again, for extra measure maybe. Jamie watched him closely, his facial expression not changing in the slightest and he was more than sure that he looked intimidating with a deep scowl and firm, unwavering eyes, dark from years of… from years of torture, murder, mind-wipes and dehumanizing and weaponizing.

“What’s got you like this?” the man asked softly, seeming a little on edge, but he was physically at ease, like he was just talking to someone he really knew and was comfortable. He was like this with Steve. Back when he was Bucky. He remembered being this way, protective, attentive, supportive-ish. He tended to be concerned, but the way he handled it with ease, he was smooth and got right to it instead of beating around the bush. And on more than one occasion, he remembered Steve and few others mentioning that if he had a kid, he’d have been a damn good father. Guess this was that kind of situation.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jamie answered honestly, but with a flat tone. He was too active in his own mind, thinking of the bad that could be their outcome if he screwed up in any way. He didn’t want to let Bucky know, know that he was doubting himself and why he was there and that he could save them, or anyone in general. He was no hero. He was the Winter Soldier. He did the killing, he did the negative. Captain America was the positive.

… That was a thought.

Captain America saved him either way, from Schmidt and Zola. Jamie just had to be there for when the scientist was about to inject him and test him. He could take the man out from there, provent any of it from happening. Though, the Colonel needed Zola, so maybe he could cuff him to something, maybe knock him out and have the Captain take him back. And then after they went through every HYDRA that lead to the train, he could save him from there-, no… would they even be on the train at that point? They’d needed Zola, who’d been on it, but if he had him from the beginning…

No… Bucky would still be in danger, if it wasn’t set in stone, it could worsen. What if Schmidt caught them in a base, or used the Tesseract on them. Anything could happen…

What the hell was he meant to be doing!

“Don’t know what to-... about what?” Bucky asked curiously, concern edged into his words. Jamie shook his head lightly, staring at the ground between his boots. He should tell him, he should really tell him. He should’ve said something when they’d been talking in the truck. “We haven’t reached our coordinates yet-... Jamie?” and they wouldn’t. They’d camp out later, in the spot they were currently in and then they’d be taken, a few shot and killed, more knocked out and a majority in shackles in the back of trucks that’d be parked about half a mile away, so they’d be undetected.

“Something happens,” he slowly glanced up after hearing Bucky’s quiet realization. He saw the sureness in his eyes and in his expression, like he just confirmed it for himself. “That’s why you’re all-...” he waved his hand, gesturing to Jamie as he trailed off without finishing the sentence. It didn’t really need to be finished either. They both got the idea. He was acting off and it was obvious.

“... Yeah,” he spoke truthfully, his tone quiet and almost resigned, but nearly as flat as before. He shook his head again, keeping his eyes off of the other man as he closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. “I should’ve told you bef-,” he didn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Whoa, hey, no. Shut up,” Bucky cut him off, and a bit rudely with that ‘shut up’. It wasn’t really surprising though. He used to be the man and knew that he’d never take that kind of attitude. “Don’t blame yourself for not tellin’ me,” Jamie lifted his head, reluctantly looking at him to see the other soldier pointing at him, almost like he was some petulant child or something. “That’s not on you,”

“But-,” he tried, being stubborn in taking the blame and he was just interrupted again.

“I said shut up,” he opened his mouth to start again, only for Bucky to stop him… again. “Listen to me, Jami-,” and he was about to cut his past-self off, receiving the back of Bucky’s hand to his face, a quick surprise blow, just a simple tap and he stopped, almost glaring at the man and grunting like he really was a child who’d just been sent to his naughty-chair in the corner or something. “ _Listen_ ,” he added for good measure.

“Like I said before, _you’re one guy_ , and whatever’s gonna happen is probably gonna happen anyway,” his _father’s_ tone was hard, something like how Steve talked to Stark or when the Captain was about to get on with a mission. Bucky was being authoritative. A parent. He was being a parent to Jamie and it was just… odd. He should’ve been maybe a little used to it by now, but he really wasn’t. It was still weird to have his past-self talk to him like he was the child and Bucky himself was the more mature father figure.

“What if I can stop it,” he decided to ask rhetorically, because he could. Probably. If there was a chance that no one would die and things would turn out better, then he’d take it. He could go on ahead, take them out.

“What if you can’t?” but there was that chance, the chance that everything could turn to shit and something worse could happen. “I mean, obviously I don’t end up dead, because you’re here. I get a son,” … not exactly. Jamie swallowed and darted his eyes downwards, staring at the floor again. And if _that_ wasn’t a sign that shit hit the fan, he didn’t know what would.

“Why am I gettin’ this feelin’ that I don’t get off Scot-free,” _Because you don’t, not really_. The marks on his face, above his left eyebrow and on his left cheek. The machine that made those scratches and very mild burns was a prototype to the machine that he sat in to get his mind wiped. He’d been the successful guinea-pig. Or Bucky _would_ be the successful guinea-pig.

“You know what, don’t tell me,” he suddenly waved his hands passively, dropping the conversation where it was and Jamie scowled further, growling in his throat, through closed lips. It caught the other man’s attention as he stood up and the _son_ followed, getting close and intimidating.

“I hate how you’re just shrugging it off like it’s nothing,” his tone was flatter, no emotion travelling, but the anger that was shown firmly in his gaze. Bucky didn’t flinch, or didn’t seem to, even though he was biting his lip, at the inside. It was obvious that he actually worried him, made him a bit nervous in situations like this, but he never showed it, which he sort of respected and admired. To a point. Fear made you human, and Jamie never used to have any until he was thrown back to 1943. It really showed that he was human after all, he guessed.

Though it wasn’t his death or the Nazi or Schmidt that worried him… it was Bucky. And Steve from this time. He’d be meeting him soon enough and he didn’t want the man to know who he was, what he became…

Bucky would have to hold off on telling him about all this time travel stuff. And he’d have to start wearing his balaclava again.

“Like you said, Jamie. It could turn bad or worse if I knew. It could change something,” it could change everything. He’d be surprised if he didn’t leave this time with a damn migraine. All this time-travel bullshit was getting to him. “If it’s worth changing, for the better, then yeah, talk to your heart's content, but-,” he decided to.

“Tonight,” he blurted, fast and simple. He was getting irritated with having to keep things from him and it was beginning to be a pain in his ass, his head and his everything else. He needed to at least warn the man.

“What?” Bucky paused, staring at him with an open expression, like he was trying to register what he’d just said, but he wasn’t getting anywhere. Not too surprising really.

“Tonight… all those units that went MIA,” he reminded, a fraction of a tilt in his head as he shrugged, a sign that it should’ve been obvious and easy to understand. And a second, maybe two later, a realization seemed to glint in the man’s eye, his eyebrows rising in shock and he stared, wide-eyed at him.

“... We’re next?” his body slouched some, like he was suddenly tired. Jamie understood that it had to be a lot to take it. Could imagine it. Obviously, since he used to be Bucky and watched it all happen from the very eyes it would happen to. It was easier to process from Jamie’s point of view than Bucky’s. Bucky knew nothing of this, hadn’t known it would happen until he was told.

“I don’t know how it happens,” that was half-lie, half-truth. He had a good idea, he just wasn’t a hundred percent sure since he was knocked out and was one of the first that were taken. “-Or when exactly, but it’s… tonight,” that was the truth. No idea of the time, but it was that night. “Early January of 1945,” honesty again. The snow was now gone and it was their turn to disappear for a few days.

“Not all of us make it out?” Bucky asked next, seeming more worried about his men than himself. Again, he wasn’t surprised by it. Jamie watched him for a moment, eyeing his face carefully before swallowing subtly and then nodding slowly.

“You and Dugan make it out, a shit-ton of others too, just not everyone,” he let a shrug unfold from his shoulders before he pocketed his hands and sighed softly. He could see the man’s mind working, the cogs turning as he came up with different scenarios and outcomes and more than likely a load of unanswered questions. The younger man was thinking hard by the looks of it, his brow knitted while he continued to bite at his lip, more visibly now.

“Are we tellin’ the Lieutenant?” Bucky gradually questioned him, now looking at him expectantly. He never planned on. Just letting _this_ man know what was going to happen could screw things over and that was risky enough. Adding more heads would just make it worse. And not to mention that it was totally unbelievable. The Lieutenant would think that they were just messing with him. No one could know this early unless someone scouted about a mile ahead and claimed they saw a couple of trucks hiding in the shrubbery.

“I don’t see how. He’ll think we’re talkin’ shit,” though, he could’ve scouted ahead. He was the most capable and could take them out. He may need more than just simple guns though, he may need something… big. Not a tank, since they didn’t have one, but… maybe something deadly, dangerous, something that could destroy an entire unit in the span of not even an hour.

“I could… go on ahead, take them out under the cover of night. Like I did with the ones back in that old town,” he tried, shrugging at his own suggestion. He eyed the other soldier up and down, his eyebrows rising in a question of support for the idea. He could maybe become that deadly something right on the outskirts of the Nazi unit that was coming for them.

“Canon, there’s gonna be way more than a small troop. They’re comin’ to take out an entire unit,” obviously. And what better way to take out a unit with a _one man unit_. He could do it, a pretty simply and fast. He could be back at the camp maybe an hour after everyone turned in for the night.

“I could take them out if I was _The Winter Sol_ -,” he really didn’t even get a chance to finish his HYDRA given moniker.

“No, fuck that idea,” Bucky cut in fast. He was doing that a lot today and the entire blame was on him for that. Bucky, not Jaime. His agitation must’ve been contagious for his past-self. “You said you’re not Jamie when you’re like that,” he pointed at him aggressively, clearly hating the idea. “You said you’re a monster. You said you hate everything about yourself when you’re the Winter Soldier. You said that the guys that did all that horrible traumatizing shit turned you into that!” Jamie had gotten the damn picture on the first line of his sentence. The Winter Soldier idea was a big ‘ _no_ ’ and he was gradually getting even more agitated by the instant explosion that was Bucky’s reaction. He was being glared at, his finger pointed straight at him and he could only bark back. He hadn’t flinched or reacted at all to Bucky’s _father-esque_ exterior.

“I know what I said! But if it made any kind of difference and saved more lives, then it’s a small price to pay!” he growled back, taking an intimidating step towards him with a deeper scowl that he’d perfected over the last few years of his freedom. “I’ll revert back to Jamie, I’ll just be…” he trailed, waving his hand off to the side.

He’d be as destroyed and as broken and lifeless as he was the moment he had his mind returned to him. He’d be a shattered casing of himself again.

“You’ll shell-up and be all broken again, and you’ll be way worse off than when I first met you in this timeline,” yeah, that too. Jamie would be… he’d be worse, even more traumatized and stressed and in more pieces than he was after DC.

“... Yeah, I guess,” the super-soldier confirmed grimly, dropping his gaze just a bit and turning it to the slightly damp ground. It was a stupid idea that would leave him hurt and broken, but if it meant he could prevent all the bad at the very start, then it was fine. He could save them here and go after Zola and Schmidt and then Hitler. WWII would be over and Bucky could return to Steve, who should’ve been Captain America by then. They’d be happy again and none of this HYDRA Winter Soldier malarkey would’ve happened.

“I forbid,” Jamie shot his head up in an incredulous manner at the almost child exterior Bucky had. He stood there, arms folded tightly over his chest while he stared him dead in the eyes, his posture as straight as ever and he just..

“You can’t forbi-,” he’d started protesting, only to be cut off instantly.

“I forbid,” he repeated again, his posture somehow getting a bit more straighter with his petulant attitude.

“You can’t just-,”

“I’ll ground your sorry ass as soon as you’re born,” he pointed at him authoritatively and this would’ve been a comical scene if it weren’t for their situation.

“That won’t change anythin-,”

“Fine, _you’re_ grounded,” he pointed at _him_ directly, not the ‘ _first-born_ ’ version of him that wouldn’t happen again in this time.

“I’m thirty-two years ol-,”

“Don’t give a fuck. You’re grounded,” he crossed his arms again.

“You can’t ground me-,”

“Just did,” _he was going to beat him with something heavy and he was tempted to use his damn arm!_

\---------- Bucky

So, long story short. Bucky managed to convince his son to lay low at the camp, keeping a low profile on the inner side of the forest. He’d told the patrolling soldiers that they were going to hang there and talk, just a casual thing that some did every now and again and they went for it. That was why they were there, watching the camp and waiting.

 _Real father son bonding_ he’d called it, and Canon’s first response was:

“I hate you,” which he tried not to laugh to loud at. He chuckled slightly, keeping his eyes peeled for any Nazis. They agreed on taking them at the camp’s edge, yelling as soon as they saw the opposing team. It gave them maybe an advantage, he guessed. Everyone would be up and ready for a fight faster than if they didn’t.

“Love you too, son,” Bucky scoffed, kneeling behind a tree and some bushes. Jamie was only a few feet away, a slightly different angle to where everyone was either asleep or half asleep.

“And for the record… I don’t think you should tell Steve that I’m your son,” what? Buzzkill. It would’ve been great to show up back in Brooklyn to show and tell his own _son from the future_ off. And it would’ve been great fun to see how he fared with the Brooklyn women of their time. Seriously, they could’ve gone out for drinks, not having to worry about giving away anything to Steve because he’d have already known.

“So what… I say you’re my big brother? ‘Cause that’s not weird,” he replied sarcastically, squinting just a bit at something he saw in the forest across the way. Bushes, more bushes, a tree… bushes.

“Neither is telling him a man that’s older than you is actually your son,” well…. yeah, he had him there.

“Touché,” he smirked lazily, keeping his head low.

“I still say you should be sleeping, or pretending to be,” he said the same thing earlier, when everyone was getting down in the dirt, ready for lights out, metaphorically speaking. It led him to assume that that was how he was caught the first time. That he’d been sleeping when it all went down.

“And miss the fun?” he shot back quietly, his smirk growing as he took a quick glance over at him, seeing the almost exasperated look on his face. And he turned back just in time to see something dart across from tree to tree on the other side of camp, Jamie seeming to have been looking at him when it happened. Bucky ever so slightly edged closer.

“It’s not gonna be fun,” the walking Tank scoffed, shaking his head at him as they got closer again. “And I don’t want you to see me when I trigger myself,” it was when he turned to look out to the sleeping soldiers that he stealthily picked up a heavy rock as he continued to get closer and then stopped when he was mere inches away.

“Good thing I’m not gonna see you trigger the Soldier then, huh,” he swung his arm back.

“What?-,” and hit him over the head with that damn heavy stone, watching as it took a second before Jamie fell forward, landing chest down in the dirt. Bucky shook his head and dropped his smile, taking a guilty breath as he stared at the unconscious form of his son lying there.

“Sorry, Jamie,” he quietly put the rock down and tried to subtly re-position him so he was hidden pretty damn well. There was no chance that he was letting him trigger something like that, something that could really break him and he never wanted to see him like that. From what he knew already, the guy had gone through the worst possible thing and he wasn’t fucking turning himself into something they made, even when he was willing to use it to protect others.

Bucky would protect him from that…

He really hoped that Jamie wouldn’t hit him with that arm of his in retaliation later on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy? What d'you think? What did you like more? That damn ending hurt me! But Bucky did it thinking he was totally saving his "Son's" ass, so I'm... okay with it, I guess :D Let me know what you think and what you liked more!!!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than the last, but no less exciting. We're finally into the canon, and this chapter has a surprise :) Hope ya'll enjoy where this goes!!

His head was throbbing, just a fraction of pain off from violently. Jamie groaned and tried to push himself up, using his knees and hands to crouch and stay hidden behind a bush. A hand went to back the back of his head and he could actually feel where he was hit by something, a lump, shallow, sinking from his enhanced metabolism. This would be one of the handful of times that he’d thank his abilities.

Jamie took a quiet breath, steadying himself before forcing himself to stand. He vaguely remembered hiding out with Bucky, behind the shrubbery, waiting for- Bodies, bodies were scattered around the area, their camp. He stared, his eyes widening, his hand dropping. He remembered. He and Bucky, waiting on Schmidt’s unit. The bastard knocked him out, managing to catch him off and hit him with something hard enough to drop him.

 _You’re not triggering that guy, not while I can’t protect you from it_. Bucky’s thought. Jamie had the memory, vague, fuzzy, undetailed. He must’ve had it like a dream, a memory from Bucky, his thought in that moment. A split-second thought to protect his _son_ from the monster HYDRA created. It’d been a sweet and nice gesture if he hadn’t been hit and knocked out by something that could’ve given anyone else brain-damage.

Jamie creased his brow and pointed it down in the centre, anger being forced back and held at the thought that something had happened because Bucky knocked him out. He stared out through the forestry, carefully stepping over the bushes and out into the camp. Bodies, dead, covered in holes and blood. Not everyone was there, only a few. He recognized them, the few that lay there motionless. They were familiar.

He strode through the empty areas, rounding the lifeless and trying not to disturb. He gazed down, the anger still building at what he was seeing, what he knew HYDRA had done. They’d pay, and he’d be there. Judge, Jury and Executor. That’d been one of the examples in relation to the _Soldier_. And he could still be all three, without being that man.

Jamie stopped in the centre of the camp for a moment, turning to stare at the bodies, carefully eyeing each one with a gradually increasing rage that he managed to hold with surprising strength. He’d kill, destroy. He’d burn them alive for it. They would die by his hand, both Flesh and Metal.

With his mind set, he turned his gaze sharply towards the trucks that were still there, still filled with ammunition. He turned and strode over, his body taut and ready for a fight. He climbed up into the back of one, where he knew his gear was sitting in a duffle-bag. He reached under one of the benches and dragged it out, unzipping it. His Uniform was there, the gear he’d worn during the battle in Germany, against Ironman and his team. Everything, as well as extra shirts that had been packed by the couple he’d stayed with not long ago.

He was wearing the pants and boots, so all he needed to do was change his jacket to his bullet proof one he’d used back in DC, and that had been worn under his thicker jacket for the bulletproof plating inside. It was tougher than the ones in this time, advanced and highly durable. It was half as durable as his arm, and no one could scratch it, let alone dent it. It was a highly pleasing pirk.

Jamie swiftly grabbed the one-armed, leather jacket and slipped it on, finding his balaclava under it. He stared for a moment, gradually reaching for it and staring at it. He’d need to be something similar to the Soldier, not the man himself, but… something close to it.

He breathed slowly, calming himself and then slipped it over his head, righting it around his neck and under his hair before pulling it up over his mouth and nose, hiding the lower half of his face. He could already feel his walls building from just that, feeling the dull beat of what he used to be. It was something like muscle-memory, something too familiar for him. He was sure he could feel the Winter Soldier resting behind his shoulder and watching him, more than ready to join him in this battle he was about to wage. It was a strong feeling, but if he had the metal mask and goggles, he had the thought that the Soldier would take over, take his place and just take Jamie in general, leaving the Winter Soldier. It would be the equalization of the trigger words being spoken.

He lowered his gaze while crouching in place in the back of the truck, staring down into his duffle without really seeing it. His mind was clear, his targets set. He could feel himself, half James, half Soldier. A placebo effect, he was sure. Put on the mask, the mindset, and he was the Soldier, but with the mind of James Buchanan Barnes, or the James Barnes after he had his mind back.

He huffed and drew his eyes to the bag again, noting the corner of a piece of paper. He reached in, carefully pulling it out to see the picture, hand-drawn by that kid from the town. He stared, eyeing the arm, the blood and bodies of the Nazis. Jamie let a smile curve softly at the corner of his lips and folded it, pocketing it in the thigh pocket of his pants. He then zipped the bag up and pushed it back under the bench. He wouldn’t be back for it, there was nothing left in there he needed.

He hopped out of the truck and headed for the one carrying the ammo and weapons, climbing it to open the crates. He grabbed pistols, fitting on in the back of his belt, the other in a thigh holster and then in his boot, securing them firmly before reaching for the bigger guns, fitting one similar to the hand machine he’d had on his back during DC in the same place at his shoulder-blades. Next was the big one, SIG machine gun. Old and very dangerous.

He grabbed as few magazines for each weapon, pocketing them subtly in places with room, hidden from view. Jamie actually still had a few hand knives on his person, hidden perfectly for no one to be able to see.

He closed the crates and hopped out of the truck, instantly heading in the other direction, towards where he could see destroyed ground, drag marks and a mass of boot-prints heading in the same direction. Tracking had been an implanted ability on top of his lesser tracking skill, making that skill phenomenally better.

Jamie followed them, keeping close to the tree-line in case of an ambush or a soldier or two having been left behind, Nazi or the 107th. He wouldn’t completely need the help in this, but he was aware of Captain America. He’d make it there about the same time, if he played this right. It was after dark, anywhere around then, and from what he could tell, he’d either make it there, dead on time, or later. He wasn’t a hundred percent certain.

\----------

He could see the trucks in the dark, watching the headlights streaming. Jamie was hidden in the forest, watching them getting closer and closer. He’d rounded the gates of the complex, having found no way of getting in without being seen, so he opted for a better idea. He’d strode about half a mile back along the road-path, hiding in the trees and shrubbery, waiting on the vans and bikes to come about. There were obviously supply treks, meaning there had to be trucks passing through almost every day or every other.

So, he waited, and waited. And when it was almost pitch black in the sky, headlamps turned his way on the road. He’d ducked and carefully calculated the timing.

Just as the last truck passed, he darted out of the tree-line, sprinting towards it and grabbed at the back, launching himself into it with a simple roll. He turned his gaze to the two men, struck for a moment before they lunged at him. He ducked a knife and a punch and threw his metal hand out, hearing the dull ‘clang’ of his fist hitting its mark, the soldier seeming dazed for a moment. He darted to the side of another knife and snapped his leg out, his boot coming into contact with the Nazis chest, sending him back. He returned to the first and hit him over the back of the head with his arm again, not wanting to use guns or knives yet. Simple sneaky actions were needed for the break-in.

The man stumbled back, falling from the truck as he fell unconscious. He threw a punch towards the one that had risen from the ground and hit him square in the chest, winding him. He then pulled back and threw another punch, towards the side of his head, and then that one fell as well.

Jamie took a second to breathe, reaching down and grabbing the soldier by the neck of his clothes and then turned towards the back of the truck, where he threw him out and left it there. He turned around and headed over towards the crates they’d been sat on, planning to sit there himself, when he heard the creaking and climbing of someone behind him. He swiftly spun around, his metal hand at the ready- Steve?

He stopped himself, staring at the guy on his ass sitting there staring at him. He hadn’t rolled as smoothly as Jamie, so he was still sat there, his hands now up in surrender, a show of no threat.

“Hey, fella,” he seemed surprised, his tone cracking slightly at the sight. 

He stared hard for a moment, eyes trained on him. He had to speak, had to talk to him. And that meant that his voice would be heard. It would be recognized, unless he took the Winter Soldier similarity a step further and spoke like him as well.

He swallowed behind his mask, deciding to flatten his voice to that deep, gravelly tone he used to constantly carry.

“I’m on your side,” Jamie opted for, dropping his arms and turning his posture to as non-threatening as possible in their current situation. Steve Rogers, the Captain, he was in the truck, had had the same plan. He was thankful that he’d already had his own time with his own Steve, or he’d have been much more stunned, would maybe have attacked him or ran.

“You threw the guys out?” he was still surprised, stunned as he thumbed over his shoulder. Jamie nodded and back-stepped to the crate, watching him carefully as he sat down, elbows resting on his knees. Steve was so young, so naive. But… young, he was so young. He even looked young at this time, even though he was the same age and everything in Jamie’s current time. They were the same, but Steve was mature now, had his morals and fought for what he thought was right. This Steve fought for what he believed in, was innocent and still so new. They were different. They were so clearly different.

“You don’t look like one of ours,” the man gestured towards his gear as he carefully and cautiously stood up and walked over, keeping his eyes peeled while sitting down on the crate next to him. He was innocently keeping his eyes on him, just in case. Steve was being cautious and he was glad for that. He seemed more aware than he thought he’d be.

“You don’t look like a Star Spangled Man with a Plan,” Jamie joked, trying to lighten the mood just a little bit to ease the other soldier into some sense of security, so they could work together. There needed to be some kind of trust between them for this. “I’m a Specialist,” he added seriously, catching the man’s attention. “107th found me a while ago,”

“107th? You knew them?” Steve asked, his tone a bit frantic. This was why he was even here, for the 107th, for Bucky. They were there for the same reason. And that should’ve been the connection Steve made, realizing that they were there for the same thing.

“Yeah. I joined up with them,” he replied honestly, watching Steve’s face brighten just a little bit with hope. He liked the hope, the glint he tended to have. It was real with life.

“Do you know a Sergeant? James Buchanan Barnes?” he was smiling, his lips curving further and Jamie felt the warmth in his chest, a familiar fondness of the little brother Bucky had in Steve. This was the Steve he remembered, the one he treated as a friend and brother.

“Bucky, yeah,” he let a corner of his lips curve just slightly. “I’m around him the most,” he nodded, entangling his fingers between his knees. Steve seemed to be easing into conversation pretty fast, finding a comrade in Jamie.

“Is he alive?” was his next frantic question, like the thought only just hit him. And he wouldn’t be if Canan got his hands on him. The first thing he’d do when they were safe was punch him, right in the damn face. Even with what he remembered, having had a plausible reason for doing it, he’d punch the man in return for that damn rock to the back of the head.

“When I last saw him,” he shrugged subtly, seeing the very faint falter in his smile, like he thought the worst from his sentence. Jamie couldn’t help but reach out a hand and pat his shoulder, like any other comrade in this situation. A comforting gesture. “He still alive, he’s a fighter. He’s not going down quietly,” he spoke with some of Bucky’s usual confidence.

“Yeah,” the Captain replied with some resignation in his tone, though he seemed to catch it and clear his throat, turning a forced smile on Jamie. “I’m Steve,” the man reached out a hand. Jamie nodded slowly, sighing.

“107th calls me Canan,” he reached out his own flesh, gloved hand and shook firmly, noting his smile flicker with a genuine feel for a second. Though he’d noticed his eyes very occasionally glancing to his side, where his arm shone with a silver glint. His metal arm was on complete show and it’d obviously called a lot of attention.

“ _We’re here_ ,” a Nazi guard in the front of the trucked yelled back to them in German, definitely waiting for an answer. So, he decided to reply like one of their own.

“ _Good, my ass is numb_ ,” he yelled back, reaching behind him and banging casually on the metal. He’d heard some deep laughing in the front, knowing that it was a response to his sentence. He scoffed flatly and turned to Steve, seeing the suspicious frown on his face. “Specialist, remember?” he shrugged. “I know a few languages, German’s one of ‘em,”

The expressed lingered, Jamie wanting to roll his eyes as he felt the trucks turning, voices calling and speaking in German. They halted, turning again, but in reverse. He saw the Captain turn to the curtains draping over the back and swiftly crouched, slinking up towards the edge and pulling his shield up to hide them. Canan stayed put and watched, keeping himself as still as possible while Steve did whatever he was thinking.

In a short second, the curtain was lifted and Steve thrusted his shield forward, flatly hitting the soldier that had looked in. He flew back and the Captain turned to look at him, tilting his head and jutting it out of the truck, a sign to follow. And he did, Jamie silently left his crate, weapons hidden all over his person, only a few guns in view and he snuck up behind the man before he quietly jumped out, Canan following swiftly behind.

He followed him fast and silent down the walkway, jumping from the edge to the ground and heading towards the lined up tanks, slinking between them and keeping as out of view as they could. Jamie darted towards one ahead of him, noting the two guards just a few feet away as he rolled and successfully hid again. He saw Steve heading his way and threw up a hand, halting him just off from open view. He then signalled at the two men, bringing them to the Captain’s attention and watching as he peeked around the corner and nodded his way, acknowledging them.

Jamie sat for a second, thinking. They needed to go this way and the only way he could make the possible, was by knocking them out, _hard_. He breathed quietly and signalled the Captain to wait, his hand held up in a sign of halt. He dropped it and snuck around the corner in a low crouch, getting closer and closer, and then struck the back of one of their heads, dropping him instantly and then it was a split-second to pull back and then hit the temple area of the other guard, dropping him as well. He then grabbed their collars and dragged them quietly and quickly out of sight, back towards the tanks.

He dropped them there, eyeing them for a moment before glancing up to Steve, seeing the surprise on his face, staring at him like he was some mystical beast.

“My arm’s a weapon,” he supplied before gesturing out into the open area, where he’d taken the guards down. Steve faltered, swallowing thickly before listening and then striding out, darting towards a tank against the wall of a building. Jamie followed swiftly behind, watching as he jumped and climbed and crawled perfectly up onto the flat roof, again, Jaime following perfectly in his steps and climbing up beside him.

The soldier nodded his way and jogged on ahead. They were running for a few seconds before they reached the building ahead of them, watching as the other man carefully jumped the gap and landed on the ledge. He did the same, pressing himself against it. There was a window on his side, and he peeked in to see a very empty room, almost seeming abandoned. Jamie knew the layout, not completely, but he knew where they needed to go and where to find the units and Bucky.

“Inside,” he mouthed before edging his way along the edge of where he was standing, getting closer and closer to where he wanted to be. He saw the still cautious expression on Steve’s face, but ignored it in favour of saving time and Bucky. He slipped his hand into the very small gap of the ajar window and reached down, feeling for the clasp before grabbing it and breaking the metal in his grip. Pulling back, he gripped the frame and carefully pulled, seeing and feeling it pulling further open. Once it was wide enough, he turned and slipped in, silently dropping to the solid tables and then to the ground. He watched as the Captain followed, tossing his shield in so he could fit through. Jamie had caught it, waiting on Steve until he was on the table before tossing it back up to him and heading towards the door.

These hallways weren’t familiar to him, so he knew he’d never been here. But thankfully, he knew where the door attaching this part of the building and the massive building should be. And Steve seemed to have the same idea as he strode ahead of him, keeping up a defensive stance as they rounding corners and headed down hallways.

Jamie shot into action when the door that Steve had passed opened, a soldier stepping a few inches out. He threw his boot up- “He-,” and kicked the door, jamming him between the frame and door itself. He stepped up close and released the door, hitting him with his metal fist and then tossing him back into the empty room, closing the door behind him.

Jamie turned to see the surprised expression again. It seemed that anything he did surprised the man, or awed him, whatever that face he was making was.

He continued his walking, stepping up beside Steve. They were nearing another door, thicker metal and dark, a window in the top centre. He darted to the other side of the door at the end of the hall and waited on the Captain, watching as he glanced through and then sent a quirked brow and smirk his way. Steve then gently tapped on the metal, gaining the guards attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What d'you think? What was your favourite part? I honestly had goosebumps writing the part about the Winter Soldier watching him from his shoulder, when he had the mask and gear on. I really loved that bit. It was so much fun to write :D


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if there's any mistakes. I wrote the dialogue while watching the movie while up my sisters and I added all the actions and monologues later on when I could get to my pc and watched the movie through youtube.
> 
> Basically, I wrote everything down as I saw it happening, there may be a mistake here and there.

Only a few minutes into the rescue, and Jamie came to the conclusion that these HYDRA agents were as blind as ever. Who wouldn’t notice a man running around in an American soldiers gear, a blue helmet with an A sprayed on the front and was carrying a large shield with the damn American flag on it? This year’s Steve wasn’t a very stealthy man. Jamie was ahead of him, crouching low and crawling between a few tables, staying hidden and out of view and here Steve Rogers was, half standing and looking around like he’d lost something.

How did this man manage to save Bucky the first time around...

Jamie paused and brought his fist up, signalling to halt. And from the faint shifting behind him, he assumed that Steve had dropped to a crouch and indeed stopped on command. They were passing through a few corridors, to the larger part of the building that he was sure held the Units. They were familiar enough to him to know where he was.

He watched as a soldier passed by, taking a second to stand quietly and wrap his metal arm around the man’s neck, pulling him back towards the wall where he’d just been. Only a few seconds of watching the consciousness drain and a second to look at Steve to see the discomfort in his face, almost disapproving of his method. He’d actually almost scoffed, because it really was a Steve expression with him over the last few years. They were still similar in that aspect. Though, maybe it was more to do with his arm for this Steve. It was more than a little abnormal for this timeline. Too futuristic and advanced. He’d had so many upgrades and new arms over those seventy years.

Jamie dropped the body against the wall and continued to crouch along the hallway, heading straight for the room he could still picture so perfectly. Thankfully, there hadn’t been many guards posted inside, showing how ignorant and arrogant Schmidt must’ve been, thinking that no one could infiltrate his base. This was complete childsplay.

He skulked around the corner and paused at the open doors, peeking for a second before slipping back a tad, wanting to stay as hidden as possible when he saw the two guards striding back and forth. He could see the cages through large circles in the floor. Metal bars rounding the underneath and keeping the soldier in there. Honestly, Jamie thought it was just an odd structure design. Why not get normal cages? There were just as effective, if not more than.

The soldier eyed the room, having brought his sharp mind back and spied a large crate on the other end, across from him. He could take one guard from there while Steve got the other. It was effective. He turned slightly and used two fingers to tap the space between them, signalling him to stay for a moment before he turned back and waited, waiting on them both to be facing away before he silently crouched and skulked along the floor, dropping his hands to the ground just as he reached it to angle himself around and behind it.

He carefully watched as the two guards came closer again, chatting to themselves and almost in unison, he and Steve jumped out at the men. The Captain punched and shielded and Jamie just did as he’d done before, wrapping his arm around his neck and cut off his airway. It was a little faster than Steve’s opening. He dropped the body over one of the cells, noting the people instantly standing to see what happened. Steve crouched and searched the bodies as the soldier stepped forward, having spotted a familiar face.

“Dugan?” Jamie questioned as he leaned over the barred hole, staring with a calculating gaze. He’d know that hat anywhere, and that stupid, horrific moustache. It was good to see that he still seemed fine… Bucky wasn’t there, meaning that…

“Canon, sight for sore eyes,” maybe the timeline was set in stone. He couldn’t change anything, having started with the Units abduction. Jamie said nothing, only having the ability to nod in greeting for the moment. He needed to stop and think, but if he did, he wouldn’t get anywhere. He needed to get the men out and talk it through with himself, with… Bucky.

“Who’re you supposed to be?” Jamie flickered his eyes to Jones, who’d question Steve. Though he could see the question being a aimed at him for a moment too, probably having been drawn on the Captain because one of the others already knew Jamie by Canon.

“Captain America,” Steve stuttered just a bit, his breath slightly panty. Though he was moving a bit faster than the soldier. He had the keys and jogged off towards the staircase leading down to the cells.

“Beg your pardon?” Monty, he remembered the Englishman. There’d been a few moments shared between them, Bucky having wanted to learn a little and there’d been a connection there, a potentially strong friendship. That was where Monty had decided to say yes to helping Captain America with the HYDRA business.

“Is it just you two, Barnes?” Jamie watched the Brit for a moment, a small staring contest before he turned his gaze on Dugan. He needed to let Dumdum know that Steve wasn’t meant to know his last name, not until he could talk to Bucky about it.

“Yeah. The rest of the Unit back at camp is dead,” he replied plainly, his flat tone still strong and emotionless, and it seemed to throw Dumdum for a second. He stared back like he was seeing him a little differently all of a sudden. Jamie took that moment of stun to stand and follow Steve’s path to the stairs, to help unlock the cages. He didn’t actually need keys for opening them. His left arm was strong enough, more than, to break the locks.

He strode down them fast, heading straight towards where Steve had opened Dugan’s cell and ignoring all the eyes that darted to his arm and appearance.

“I’m looking for a Sergeant James Barnes,” the Captain mentioned just as he reached them. He kept ahead of them as they started walking down the path between all the cages, just listening. He knew where to go, knew the way from here.

“There’s an Isolation-Ward in the factory, but no one’s ever come back from it,” and he knew the ‘ _why_ ’ to that. No one survived the experimentation. Bucky only did because he hadn’t gone through the full process that day like everyone else had.

Jamie huffed and strode faster, putting a bit of space between himself and the group. And Steve must’ve seen this because he turned on his Captain Mode.

“The treeline is North-West, about 80 yards passed the gate. Get out fast and give ‘em hell, I’ll meet you in the clearing with any guys I find,” Bucky, that was the only other man left, the rest were dead and he’d confirm that if he didn’t know that Steve wouldn’t listen. He’d check regardless.

“Wait, you know what you’re doing?” Jones pirked up, his voice getting quiet as Jamie kept moving, heading down the hall faster, breaking into a job.

“I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times,” Jamie scoffed under his mask as he ran on ahead. That play was painful to watch, he remembered getting a chance to see it air one time.

\----------

The alarms were blaring, machines were running, tanks were exploding, bullets flying. The building was under heavy attack and Schmidt had sounded the alarms for evac, or self-destruction, if he remembered right. The entire place would explode.

He and Steve were running down along the hallways, the danker more warn out area of the facility. An area he knew all too well and he could feel the coldness seeping through his mind, the faint memories slowly scratching at the inside of his brain to resurface and give him more nightmares than he already had.

Jamie tried to ignore it as hard as he could, trying to think on saving Bucky and getting them out of there in one piece, or anything close to that. His _father_ was obviously in the after effects of the first few doses of whatever they were given during the start of the experimental process. He even remembered the drug effects himself, strong dazing, disorientation. Throwing up came way later.

“This way?” Jamie paused and turned to look over his shoulder at Steve, noting the confusion as he stared at the map on the wall. He was looking through the floor maps, 1 to 4. The area they were in only had two floors, so he was looking at the wrong map, or the map was in the wrong area.

“Down the hall and to the right,” he supplied, trying to get them moving faster. The length of time it was actually taking was making it so Zola would actually get away, the stalling, and turned in the hallways. The scientist was going to get away at this point.

“How d’you know?” he glanced at the Captain again, mentally kicking himself when it seemed like he was actually stalling without realizing it. It made his assumption that the timeline was set in stone more real. Zola was meant to get away. Bucky was meant to be a surviving experiment. There was meant to be the Howling Commandos. Bucky was meant to fall from the train. And Bucky was meant to be the Winter Soldier. It hurt… just thinking like that. His heart skipped and his spine turned cold.

“I’ve been here before,” Jamie answered honestly as he started walking again, heading down the long hallway. It was a right turn at the end and there should’ve been Zola’s lab at the end.

“When? Why?” Steve’s tone was a bit louder, a slight bit more curious to know. The soldier continued walking, the other man following close behind and he could feel the irritation tugging at him. They needed to save Bucky, get him out of there. Even if it followed the timeline of what happened before, he was going to damn well try and change it. Bucky wasn’t going to turn into what HYDRA made Jamie. He wasn’t going to become the Soldier, wasn’t going to become a monster.

“Years ago. Same situation as this,” he replied curtly, trying to quicken his speed, but his flesh arm was caught and he was stopped on the spot, the grip hard and solid around him. He practically scowled over his shoulder at Steve, noting the flinch and thick movement from his throat as he swallowed. But, that didn’t seem to stop him from question him.

“This has happened before? The experimenting?” his tone was a bit shaky, definitely from the scowl he still had on his face, still staring daggers at him. He hated that he’d sent it Steve’s way, but nothing and no one would stop him now. He needed to get everyone out of there, Bucky especially.

“Yeah,” Jamie’s tone was dark, deep and had lost that flatness. He just sounded angry at this point, pissed clearly. He tried to pull some of it back, his guilt building since it was his best friend he was sending this look. Bucky’s best friend. Steve. He hated how he was acting, but… it showed that he hadn’t really changed all that much. Bucky brought out his own Bucky side, but he was still distant towards the ones around him, still had this wall between himself and who he should call friends… Bucky was the only one he’d let close. He was still… James. Post Winter Soldier.

“Why didn’t we hear about it?” Steve cut through his self-assessment, his tone now concerned and incredulous. Clearly learning this had struck him as something to be angry about, worried about.

“It was covered up. I was the only survivor,” Jamie- _James_ , shrugged, trying to be fast and curt with his words so that they could get Bucky and go. “The experimentation worked,” he added fast, twisting his arm from the Captain’s grip before stepping away and staring him dead in the eye, lifting his metal arm as an example. All of it wasn’t actually a lie from Jami- _James’_ , point of view. It happened years ago and the experimentation worked.

“Your arm,” Steve stared at it. “A weapon. They were trying to turn people into weapons?” there was some distinct disgust there, he could see it in his face. Disgust, realization, anger, concern. There were a few more that he was sure he saw flicker across the man’s features, but…

“Human weaponization,” he said bluntly before turning away and heading around the corner. “C’mon,” he called behind himself and jogged his way down the hall.

And dammit, Zola was there, standing just outside the room. The weedy man was struck for a moment, stunned at seeing them and he darted towards the opposite side of the hallway. He and Steve instantly gave chase halfway through the hall, and _James_ would’ve gone further, to catch him, but his arm was grabbed and he was pulled back.

“What the hell!” he swiftly turned around, scowling again and seeing Steve walk into the room cautiously. This stupid set in stone time shit was getting on his damn nerves! Zola was gone! This was following exactly what happened back in his time in 1945. Bucky was going to fall from that damn train!

 _Breathe_ … Jamie-... James... Who was he… The soldier took a breath, a deep one, and exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. At this point, he was actually wondering if it’d be so bad to be the Winter Soldier. His identity issues were back, his mind was conflicted. He knew what was to come and in which order and… he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The Winter Soldier though… he might’ve been able to change at least a few things. Nothing could stop him once he had a mission, even Steve. If it was to kill Zola, he would’ve right then and there.

He followed the Captain into the room, his eyes instantly darting towards a body on a table, strapped down and muttering to himself. Bucky. Steve was darting over quickly, James staying put by the door. This was a moment, their moment. Steve saving Bucky. He remembered this. A plot point, he guessed one would call it.

“Bucky,” the Captain called out to the disoriented man, stopping his muttering. “ _Oh my god_ ,” the other enhanced soldier said to himself as he eyed the straps holding Bucky to the table. There was more muttering, they were attempted questions from disorientation. Just gibberish, words mixed together to form nothing.

“It’s me, it’s Steve,” the Captain stated with a smile, trying to comfort and assure it was him there, no figment or fake. And he himself remembered that warmth build when he was in Bucky’s position, all that relief pouring and coming off in waves when he knew it couldn’t be a fake.

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice was gravelly, deep, warn and tired. No surprising since he could remember himself screaming through the first few doses given to him. Exactly the same. The dialogue repeatment. Everything was the same as before.

“C’mon,” Steve helped Bucky down from the table, keeping their arms entangled so that he could keep him standing and stable. “I thought you were dead,” the Captain said after a moment and James had to quietly take a step back, keeping himself in the doorway and half hidden. He looked away. He didn’t know whether it was the nostalgia, or just a random thought, but… he felt… jealous. He didn’t want to feel that, of all things. Bucky had his own Steve, James had his own too.

“Thought you were smaller,” he remembered the humour in that moment. The thought of past Steve to present and what Bucky was thinking. It was that that had made him think that he was hallucinating. He remembered Steve as the small guy from Brooklyn, not the _Bigger Than Bucky_ Steve. “Jamie,”

The soldier snapped his gaze up and over to Bucky, seeing the wide, still slightly disoriented eyes on him. He seemed happy, the corners of his lips turned upwards. He didn’t want that either. It was nice, comforting, don’t get him wrong, but… it shouldn’t be like that. He needed to keep them at a distance. All this new information. The timeline being set, and what was meant to happen.

Losing Bucky would break him. Seeing _himself_ fall through Steve’s eyes would destroy him. He’d be broken… worse than what HYDRA had done to him. He’d rather HYDRA over watching Bucky fall.

“We need to get out of here,” James refrained from letting the crack in his throat shake through his sentence, keeping himself as professional as the Winter Soldier. He needed to be more like the man from this point on. He needed to put some distance between them, needed to lower the emotional attachment he’d gained over this year.

“Jamie?” ...and it seemed Bucky saw it, saw the inner conflict he was battling with. The smile was gone, strained. And James was left with the man’s concerned stare, confusion lacing it and he hated himself for making him worry. The soldier cared too much, he wasn’t meant to.

“We’ll talk later,” his tone was flat, or he forced it to be. They needed to leave, needed to get out of there and maybe he could actually talk to him about it. To tell him that they needed to part or something. Or at least needed to separate their familiar bonding and minimize it. But then Bucky wouldn’t that something was going on, something that would hurt them both beyond aid. “Right now, we rendezvous with the others,” James turned his eyes to Steve, keeping them as emotionless as he could. “Your words, Captain,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you and I hope ya'll enjoyed. Please let me know what you thought and what your favourite part was.
> 
> Mine still has to be from one of the previous chapters, when he had the Winter Soldier on his shoulder when he put the mask on :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a different chapter. I thought you'd like to see what the rest of the team were up to and I'm not disappointed in what I wrote. This was actually really fun to write up :) I hope ya'll enjoy where I went with this. I'm thinking that I'll be switching around from past to present a few times so you can get both sides of the story :)

 

Steve turned over onto his side, dragging the dampening sheets closer as they twisted around him. His body was hot, he was sweating, his head was pounding, throbbing while buried in the thick pillows.

A dream, or what he’d imagine one being if a few were mixed together, which this one was. He was Captain America, Captain America from 1944 or 1945. He was in the treeline first, waiting on the trucks. He’d hopped up into one, but it was different. The dream started not long after he’d jumped from Stark’s plane, ready to infiltrate Schmidt's base for Buck and the other Unit’s. But it was different. Everything leading up to jumping into the truck was exactly the same as what actually happened in the passed, but...

_“Hey, fella,” he stared up at the dark figure on the other side of the truck, staring at him with almost dead eyes, emotionless looking and fists up ready to fight. He was decked out in black, his arm a metallic looking silver, pretty reflective, even in the dark shadows he was covered by._

_“I’m on your side,” he replied from behind his black mask, his voice deep, gritty and on the verge of flat, almost as emotionless as his eyes. He was one helluva sight, someone he’d never met before. His hair was long, framing his face and that just added to the mystery and dark appearance._

_“You threw the guys out?” he managed to ask, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb before the dark stranger nodded in silence and turned to sit on the crate across the way from him. Even his movements were intimidating. He looked and acted too… predatory for his liking, like a caged animal being forced to stay tame, against his will. “You don’t look like one of ours,” he added as he cautiously got up, watching him carefully while stepping closer to sit on the other crate. He’d said they were on the same side, so he was taking that chance. A guy like this, with a calculating gaze like that, he wasn’t stupid. The guy was smart, so that was a point in Steve’s thought that maybe he really was on his side, that he wouldn’t attack him, lying in that he was actually just a Nazi._

_“You don’t look like a Star Spangled Man with a Plan,” he internally scoffed at that, regretting his decision about even making those aired clips and being the stage monkey. “I’m a Specialist,” he heard the guy add, and his thought process spiked for a second. He imagined a specialist, a combat ready man with intense skills and training. He took a short glance over at him, and double took a glance at his arm. He put the appearance to the word. This man with a tag as Specialist, and he’d admit that it fit._

_Again, he’d never seen anyone like this before, with an arm like that, with gear like that and with just… that appearance. The word Specialist just seemed to fit perfectly._

Steve gasped awake, his body jerking up until he was sitting straight up in the darkness, sitting on his soaked bed. He was panting lightly, his chest broadening and slacking. He waited a few seconds, minutes even, for his breathing to calm down, for his head to stop throbbing, but the latter wasn’t happening. Painkillers wouldn’t work, he knew that. And same went for sleeping pills. He wouldn't be sleeping for the rest of the night now.

The Captain rested his elbows on his bent knees, his hands reaching to his face and rubbing gently. He huffed, rubbing his fingers through his hair before getting out of bed, climbing to one side of the mattress before getting up and heading for a shower. He’d change the seats when he got back. He need to shower, eat something or maybe have coffee. Hopefully Clint hadn’t drank Wakanda’s full supply yet. The man practically lived off of coffee.

He showered slowly, or average pace to everyone else. Back in the 1940’s, a shower was a special thing. He could never stay long under the spray, it was a timed thing. Avenger time in a shower in the present time was about half an hour to an hour, back then, it was about ten minutes, if that.

Steve only jumped in to wash away the thick layer of sweat he’d built up, so he didn’t need long to clean himself before getting out and drying himself in record time, slipping into a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt, socks too because the floors were marble and cold in the mornings.

He headed out of the room, closing his door behind himself and making his way to the kitchen that was built into the guest house of T'Challa's impressive home. He strode down the carpeted hallway, already catching that someone was already in there from the dim light spilling into the hall ahead. He would wonder who was awake if he didn’t already know that it was Clint. The smell of coffee was strong and the humming was low and deep. Definitely Clint.

The Captain squinted slightly as he reached the end, the light hitting his eyes and he saw the Agent sitting with his back facing him, bare of a shirt and footwear. He was wearing black pjay pants with purple target marks plastered everywhere. Hawkeye bedwear merchandise. It drew a tired smile to his face as he stepped further into the room.

“Can’t sleep, Cap?” it didn’t surprise him that the archer knew he was there. He didn’t need his hearing aids in to know when someone was there, even though he probably had them in right now. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure.

“Headache,” he replied tiredly as he rounded the agent and stepped around the island for the coffee maker.

“Didn’t think you or Terminator could get them. Doesn’t the Enhanced metabolism heal you?” so he had the hearing aids in. Steve scoffed at the nickname, having heard it a few times from Clint when they talked about Bucky. He remembered when he called him that name face-to-face. The look of confusion because of the reference, but the odd quirk in his brow that showed that he didn’t completely hate it. Not the name, but the fact that someone had enough of a spine to actually treat him… the way Clint did. The Agent treated him as a friend, and Steve was beyond grateful for that.

“I don’t know about Buck, but I guess it depends on how bad it is,” he just assumed. This kind of headache for Steve could probably be a major migraine to anyone else. _Worth a hospital trip kind_ to any normal civilian. “Why’re you up?” the Captain asked as he turned around and leaned back against the counter, waiting on the hum of the kettle.

“Insomnia, nightmares, guilt, restlessness, Nat… take your pick,” he knew that Clint was still a bit broken from the whole Hawkeye vs Black Widow, even if the two had just sparred against each other during the battle. They didn’t make it serious, or personal. They were still partners, best friends, even though they were on separate sides. He understood that it just hurt him that they weren’t together right then and there…

Like Steve and Bucky. This started because he wanted to save his best friend, and now they had no idea where he was.

Steve saw it, saw what happened. Zemo… he threw a stone, one of the Infinity Gem’s, one that Tony took after they stopped fighting and separated. He had more of an idea of what to do with it, and made more than a few points that Steve couldn’t begin to argue with and then left, bitter and pissed as he left.

The stone hit Bucky, Bucky let out a spine chilling yell and then… he just turned into greenish orange dust, and he was gone. Bucky was gone. He wasn’t dead, couldn’t be. Even though Tony just blunt said that ‘ _Guess this means I win_ ,’ and ‘ _This didn’t bring my mom back, but at least they can rest in peace now_ ,’ and Steve knew that it was meant to hurt him, the way he said it was aimed at him because Tony was bitter about it all, and hated him for choosing against him.

“We’ll figure out what happened, Cap,” Steve looked up and over at the Archer, watching the tired smile draw across his face in a way to comfort. He didn’t know how, but he hoped that they would. He needed to know what happened. He could feel Bucky, he was alive, he knew it. He knew that his best friend was still there, still here, somewhere. “Go back to sleep, you need it,” Steve watched Clint, watched him quirk a brow while holding his tired smile. And he just shook his head. He forgot about his coffee still sitting in the kettle and just pushed himself from the counter, heading back around the island. The Agent was right that he needed sleep. And he’d try, he needed rest. He couldn’t against sleep, even if dreams and nightmares were plaguing him at this point.

“G’night, Cap,” he heard the Agent call as he passed by him, the Captain’s hand reaching out and patting at the man’s bare shoulder.

“Night, Clint,”

\----------

Clint waited a decent few minutes after the Cap left before picking his phone back up from his lap, eyeing it for a second to re-read the text from the start to where he left off when he heard the big guy coming into the room.

N: _I can’t get in without him knowing that I’ve been there. The keypad has pad-sensors._

The Agent furrowed his brow at the text, biting at the inside of his lip. If she couldn’t get in that way, then she’d have to try a few riskier ways, Clint’s ways. Yeah, sure, they were a bit unorthodox, but they always worked out in his favour. And hell, she was way more flexible and graceful than he was, so she could land them better. Nat was the stealthiest out of the both of them. Robocop Barnes more so.

He was more than grateful to Nat for doing this, even though they knew all too well that this would hurt Stark. Trust and loyalty was a big thing to the man. But they both agreed that Barnes didn’t deserve any of what came to him, what this piece of shit world gave him on a flaming, rooten plate.

They both agreed that Bucky was innocent. It was his body that pulled the trigger, his body that killed so many people, and so many families. But it wasn’t his mind. It was never Bucky. It was the Soldier. They understand that more than anyone, because of their shared experiences. The were on Bucky’s side. James Buchanan Barnes was innocent and they’d vouch for that with every inch of their being.

That was why he and Nat were working it without Steve.

C: _Try the vents. Two of the ones on my floor lead to the Isolation room and his lab. There’s also a grate I installed in the vents so no one could get into my room or floor through them. The passcode’s 062608._

Clint reached for his mug, holding it to his lips and taking a long gulp. Shit, he almost finished his cup. He pushed himself to stand and head around the island for the freshly brewed pot that Steve left there, drinking the rest of his mug on the way and then going about refilling his cup.

N: _The birthday you gave Lucky? Really..._

What was wrong with that? He found the dog, the dog saved his ass and he adopted him. What was so bad about giving Lucky a birthday? He had no idea when his actual birthday was.

C: _ONE of the birthday’s I gave Lucky._

… and so what that he may have giving the dog a few birthdays a year? They aged faster. They had multiple birthdays anyway.

N: _You’re an idiot._

The archer let a grin break across his face as he sipped his newly poured hot coffee, hissing when he burnt his lips and tongue. He put it down on the table and just relaxed against the table counter, arms crossing with his phone still held out, writing up his next text with a grin.

C: _Being stupid can be a privilege._

He didn’t even need to wait that long for her reply.

N: _You abuse that privilege._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed, please let me know what you thought and what could your interest. :) I actually really enjoyed writing this one up because of Steve's dreams/past changes.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May have gotten excited, that's why the recent chapters were short. I worked fast on one, fancied doing something else, but then came back to the next chapter, and got excited again, so here's the next one after that xD 
> 
> Three chapters in the span of two days. Woooow xD 
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy. There's a bit of a two person point of view here. James and Steve... uh... James and Steve-2016? I'd say there's two many Steve's and Bucky's, but there's no such thing as two many of these guys xD

He could feel the heat burning at his skin, scorching inside his heavy gear as they ran up along the walkways and up the stairs as more explosions went off down below them. He remembered where they were headed, even as Steve and Bucky paused to look over the railings as another blew up, forcing them to back off and wince. He took a second, waiting on them as he headed towards a staircase that led up, the other two instantly following behind. They climbed and climbed and Steve sidestepped him to head to the right, striding along the walkway with Bucky now at James’ side. He was waiting now, waiting on the HYDRA leader. He could already see him across the way, not making it obvious that he knew where he was.

“Captain America,” the man then called out, stopping the three of them in their tracks just a few feet away from a bridge between both walkways, Schmidt’s and theirs. “How exciting. I am a great fan of your films,” James assumed that it was probably the part where he continuously knocked Hitler out was what made him a fan.

He watched carefully as Schmidt and Steve stepped up to the edges of the bridge, ever so slowly inching along it. He then caught Zola watching _him_ , eyeing him over calculatingly, drawing a scowl to his features, a scowl that could be seen from his eyes and brows pointing dangerously down in the centre.

“So, Dr. Erskine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but still, impressive,” they stepped closer and closer to the middle of the walkway, Bucky and Jamie… _James?_ stood there watching. He felt his _past-self_ beside him jerk, flinching for just a second as Steve punched Schmidt in the face, sending him back a step.

“You got no idea,” there was a pause, a short few seconds and he could already see the slackness around one of his eyes, the tugging of where Steve had punched. His mask was shifted just slightly.

“Haven’t I?” Schmidt punched back, hitting the shield and denting a knuckle shape into the metal. This was another plot point, and this one he definitely shouldn’t intervene in. They’d gain more information on him that would make it worse for Bucky. He couldn’t do anything at this time.

He watched as Steve reached for his gun, but Schmidt punched again, sending Steve back, dropping back and losing the gun over the edge of the bridge. the Nazi stepped closer and the Captain kicked both boot out when he was close, sending him way back across the walkway. It was when he landed ass first that Zola pulled a lever, separating the bridge and leaving them across the way, stuck there. Jamie had actually already had an idea of how he could help at this point. To help them over. Steve had to jump last time and that was nerve wrecking for Bucky.

“No matter what lies Erskine told you, I was his greatest success!” he reached up to his neck, digging his fingers in and pulling, pulling at his skin, pulling it off like rubber, up and over his face. The red coming through, glaring brightly at them. And it was off, he’d tossed the face aside, staring at them.

“You don’t have one of those, do you…”

“You are deluded, Captain. You pretend to be a simple soldier, when in reality, you are afraid to admit that we’ve left humanity behind-,” they hadn’t. They never would. They were toys, weapons created for nothing more than to kill. Humanity has been doing that for years. “Unlike you, I embrace it proudly,”

“You embrace a monster created by humanity,” James bluntly spat, stopping the Nazi in his place, he stopped to stare expectantly, waiting. “You were created to be a tool, a weapon to be used by the ones you look down on, and you were doing the same to the men you took. So _in reality_ , you’re no better. You’re worse than humanity,”

“Says the man with a metal arm,” the redheaded man called back, waving at him in gesture. “Who created you, Soldier? Do you embrace yours?” James scowled harder. “Doubt the fear,”

“Then how come you’re running?” Steve jumped in when the Nazi started to enter the elevator. The doors gradually closed and that was about when another explosion blew below, forcing them to step back and shield their faces. James was turning around and heading towards the stairs just as the Captain forced Bucky around, the three of them running towards the stairs.

“C’mon, let’s go. Up,” Steve shoved at his past-self, forcing him up the staircase with James being the last, following behind, right at their heels as they climbed and climbed higher. He’d make sure he was the last to jump. Out of the three, he was the one with a much higher chance of survival in this situation. If the building came down in flames, he could get out of it without a problem.

They strode quickly along the upper walkway, Steve now ahead with Bucky between the Captain and himself. He stopped at the massive brace between their walkway and the one across from them, a door closed and waiting to be opened. An escape, he remembered.

“Okay, one at a time, go,” the Captain called out, tugging Bucky closer and helping him over the fence. James watched carefully, shifting his weapon over his shoulders and clipping it in place behind him, so both hands were free. He could feel his heartbeat skip slightly as Bucky stepped onto the brace, taking the first few steps as explosions went off below. It sped up all the more as he inched along, nearly losing his balance as it shook under him and creaked as it slowly began to break out of place.

“Go!” James suddenly yelled, watching it tilt out of place and that seemed to kick-start Bucky, watching as he skipped and leaped just as the braced broke out of place and dropped, a deep, heavy bang and clanging happening below with more explosions. Exactly like the damn past he came from. The exact same thing happened. It was Steve’s turn, and then his. And he wouldn’t stand for a no if he ordered the Captain to go before him and he declined.

“ _There’s gotta be a rope or somethi-,_ ” he heard Bucky yell back at them, looking intensely worried with wide eyes and frantic breathing.

“Just go! Get outta here!” Steve yelled back. He’d about to do it as well, regardless of the man listening or not. But he stayed quiet and glanced around quickly. There had to be other ways other than jumping the gap. Steve barely made it the last time and he didn’t want him almost falling again. There had to be safer ways.

“NO! NOT WITHOUT YOU!” he turned back to see Bucky staring at the two of them, his face persistent and he was definitely not leaving or moving. He remembered his own unyielding and unrelenting posture and expression and that was just it. Bucky was giving them that entirely.

He turned his eyes on Steve, watching him flounder for a moment. He hadn’t seen any other way and he was sure that the Captain was already thinking about it. So, he stepped forward, in the man’s way and bent the bars, all four so they were facing away and wouldn’t catch him on the way passed. He reached out and shoved him back.

“Jump across,” he spoke loudly over the explosions below, shoving him back further until the man turned around and he followed. They’d have to jump then.

“Wait, you can’t make that,” the Captain turned on him, his hand reaching up to grab his bicep, the metal one, and he seemed to hesitate, pulling his hand back with an apologetic expression. “What’re you gonna do?”

“I can make that jump better than you could, now go,” he ordered loudly, glancing over to Bucky who was still staring at them like they’d lost their heads since they were still there and actually debating.

“You first,” Steve called back and he shook his head, signalling his declination to the request.

“Listen to me, Captain,” James dropped an angry frown on the Captain, aware that he was about to low blow the man into getting across the damn gap first. “He needs you more than he needs me, and that man means almost everything to me. I can get out of here, even if the building’s coming down. I’ve been a super soldier a lot longer than you, meaning I have the experience,” he could see the colour drain. “Jump across and get Bucky out of here,”

“You make it sound like you aren’t getting out of here with us,” the Captain eyed with a concerned frown, his tone hard and sharp, like he didn’t approve.

“I ain’t dying here and I ain’t leaving Bucky alone until I know he’s safe,” he’d be safe, he knew this. He’d be safe until the damn train, which he was going to try his hardest to make it so he couldn’t go. Even if that meant going in his place. Screw the _set in stone timeline_ bullshit. He was going to try and get Bucky to decide on not going.

“That’s something we can agree on,” Steve pulled him out of his momentary mission log.

“Then get your ass over there,” he bit back, his voice much harder and deeper than the Captain’s for a second there.

Steve closed his mouth and nodded stiffly, turning away and heading to the end of the walkway, swiftly spinning back around so he was facing the gap with James off to the side, out of the way of the man as he threw himself into a fast sprint. As soon as he passed by the soldier, Jamie stepped into position, ready for his turn as Steve leaped across the massive gap, grabbing hold of the metal bars on the other side and bending them just a tad with his strength and weight.

He struggled for a moment, fighting his way over the fencing with Bucky’s help until they were both on the other side, now staring at him as he stood there and loosened himself up for a good run. He shifted a little and then placed a boot slightly further back, pushing himself off with the front foot and sprinted as fast as he could, getting faster and faster as he went and then used the very edge of the walkway between the broken bars as his propeller, jumping as he planted a boot on it and launching himself across the way, flames and heat burning as him as they rose higher.

\----------

_“Captain America,” he stated between panting from the jogging and small fights to get there. He’d heard a ‘Beg your pardon?’ as he headed towards the stairs leading down into the cells itself. He’d get them out, tell them which way to go and what to do and hopefully, there’d be less casualty than needed if they followed what he said and surprised the Nazis._

_“Is it just you two, Barnes?” Steve hesitated half way down the staircase, his brow furrowing in confusion for a moment. The last name. Bucky’s last name? Barnes. The strangers last name was Barnes?_

_Steve internally shook his mind of the thought before continuing down and into the room. He‘d ask him later, maybe._

Steve was perplexed, his browline creased together with his mind lost. He was so deep in his thoughts. Because as soon as he went back to sleep, or managed to, it was like his dream carried on from the last. After meeting that dark figure in the truck, who he knew as Bucky, his Bucky from their time, from the present, or maybe a little earlier, since he was wearing the gear from when he was the Winter Soldier.

It was like he was getting a different version of his past. He was dreaming up Bucky in the past with himself and the original Bucky. It was weird, insane. Two Bucky’s in one place and Steve dealing with them.

This time, it was on the way to save Bucky, after getting the men out of the cells. It was so damn vivid and he felt all the emotion like he was really there again. If only.

_“How d’you know?” they were lost, very lost. Or Steve seemed to be anyway. The stranger, Canon, hadn’t even looked at a map, like he didn’t need to. And he’d said which way it was, which confused him all the more._

_“I’ve been here before,” what? Steve frowned in shock, watching as the man took a few steps away, heading down the hall like he knew where he was going, which he guessed he did at the time._

_“When? Why?” he just kept walking, seeming to have not heard him or something. He had to assume that he did, because he picked up his voice in pitch. The guy was completely… stoic, unmoving. His emotions were… limited, very limited. He hadn’t said anything or sounded like he was emotional at all. It was like he was impassive to everything around him, including their current situation._

_“Years ago. Same situation as this,” same situatio-. Steve instantly reached out, trying to catch the man, to stop him and actually talk about this. If this was the same situation, then he knew what to do, how to stop it all maybe! He caught the man’s arm, gripping him and he flinched back with a bit of a gasp when there was a dark look sent his way, clearly a tell that he didn’t take comfort in the touch. And he hated the thought that came later, that he pictured those eyes as the eyes of a dangerous man._

_He swallowed thickly, trying to bring his nerves back and grow his spine. The look wouldn’t stop him from what he wanted to know._

_“This has happened before? The experimenting?” Steve tried to ignore the waver in his voice. The expression was… the man’s expression was really something to fear. He had the feeling that, if he ever made a threat, he was the kind of man that would follow through on it like a promise._

_“Yeah,” the man’s tone was darker, deeper, a clear sign that he was angry, but was holding himself back from hurting anyone. Maybe he was really touchy about the subject, as well as being touched._

_“Why didn’t we hear about it?” his voice picked up again, the news that they hadn’t gotten about any of this. Why? Even the military wasn’t told, by the looks of it. The Units that were caught, that went MIA after a time._

_“It was covered up. I was the only survivor,” he felt the man shrug in his hold, still angry looking, but… **I was the only survivor**. That repeated over and over and over for a moment. “The experimentation worked,” the twist of the guys am leaving his grip brought him back, catching his attention again, and the man raised his arm, showing it to him like it should’ve been that obvious, and he couldn’t help but stare._

_“Your arm,” his tone changed with his emotion. The feeling of guilt, disgust and a few other things building up inside. How could a human do this to another human? “A weapon. They were trying to turn people into weapons?” turning human into weapon’s was… sick, inhumane. It made him sick and angry that someone could do that._

_“Human weaponization,” the man then turned away and started walking, Steve starting to slowly and distractedly follow behind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed, please let me know what you liked more and what you thought about the chapter(s) :D


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been a while, but I'm hoping I can get back into uploading faster again. I had a drout recently, but I'm back and rearing to get back into this story :D

_“You make it sound like you aren’t getting out of here with us,” He didn’t like the idea, feeling like he was leaving a man behind. He couldn’t do that, even if it was a man he didn’t know, like the rest of the Unit’s he and this stranger let out._

_“I ain’t dying here and I ain’t leaving Bucky alone until I know he’s safe,” Bucky would be safe. He was determined to make that happen. His best friend, his brother. He was there for that very reason, to save him, to save them. Bucky would’ve done the same for him._

_“That’s something we can agree on,” he stated confidently, trying to seem as professional and honest about it as he could._

_“Then get your ass over there,” the stranger all but ordered. It sounded… commanding, like he was an officer or something, a highly ranked man. He remembered him saying that he was a specialist, maybe that was it. He had a high rank in his field._

Steve rubbed his head, his thumb and fingers running the length of his forehead as he sat slouched on one of the plush, white sofas in the private livingroom. T’Challa’s guest house, where the all stayed was incredible, beautiful, had everything they would need and more, and it had something he desperately needed right then and there. Silence.

Another dream, followed right after another and Bucky was there again, both Bucky’s past and present and he himself was there again, still following the memories of what happened at the Hydra base back in 1945. It was like it was being rewritten. He had the memories of what really happened, and now he had a version where the present Bucky was in the past, going along with the story like he was meant to be there, like he fitted into that part of their past. Well, he technically was, like Steve.

“Captain,” the Super-Soldier jerked in his seat and looked over his shoulder, catching sight of Wakanda’s King standing in the doorway near the large windows.

“Your highness,” he forced a smile across his lips as the man stepped into the room, hands pocketed and seeming as well adjusted and comfortable as he should in his home. “I didn’t hear you come in,” he didn’t. He was sure that the man might’ve knocked, but he’d been so focused on Bucky and his dreams that he was getting distracted. Even Wanda had to snap her fingers in his face earlier that morning because he was so lost in thought.

“You seem distracted,” the King stepped over to the sofas, lingering just off to the side before walking between them and sitting across from him, watching him closely and calculatingly. He wanted silence, and he was sure that it probably wasn’t good for him. Therapy was out of the options and he knew that he could’ve asked Wanda for help, to talk to her about them and see what she could do.

“Because I am,” he wanted them to stop, but… he didn’t. They were all he had left of his best friend as of right then and there. The only thing left behind of his disappearance was with Tony, back at the Avengers Facility. Stark had taken more control of the building for strategy and Warmachine purposes. That was where Rhodey was getting his therapy after the German Airport battle. Tony had the means to help him there, more than he did in his own Tower.

That glowing rock, the thing that was thrown at Bucky, took him and that thing was the only thing left.

“What is it you American’s say? Penny for your thoughts?” he zoned back into reality, feeling a tad guilty for spacing out for a moment.

“It’s nothing,” Steve shook his head lightly, his voice sounding a little strained and tired and he couldn’t have disguised it. T’Challa raised a brow at him, clearly hearing and seeing the exhaustion in him. So, he sighed and swallowed. “Just dreams,”

“Dreams?” the King questioned, eyeing him with more curiosity and calculation.

“Of the past,” he elaborated, shrugging with his honesty. “When I infiltrated Schmidt’s Hydra base back in 1945. I remember it clearly, what happened, how I got in, how I saved lives and the life of my best friend,” his tone dulled, the thought tugging on his heart strings. He missed his friend. He was taken from him again.

“Mr. Barnes,” Steve nodded slowly in confirmation.

“I got Bucky out of there, saved him, saved the Units that were still there and got the men back home,” he didn’t hide the proudness that slipped into his voice with his statement. He loved that he did it, saved lives. Saved husbands and fathers and loved ones and families. It made him, shaped his form to his thoughts. The little man from Brooklyn that wouldn’t step down from a fight, became the man he wanted to be and he saved lives because he stepped into his own shoes, but bigger.

“Why do you seem so troubled? You saved them and your friend,”

“It’s not what _happened_ that’s troubling me. It’s my dreams. Bucky’s in them,” Steve creased his brow and watched the Panther, watched him carefully for any kind of reaction. He only seemed interested, maybe more so than before.

“I don’t follow,” his head titled to the side in question. And so, Steve decided to elaborate further. He wasn’t sure whether it would help or not, but maybe talking about it would give him some kind of solution.

“I’m having dreams of the past. From jumping into the back of a HYDR truck and saving Bucky and getting the men out of there… _my_ Bucky is there, in my past memories. 2017’s Bucky is running around with 1945’s Steve and Bucky, following what happened,” that was really the only way he could describe what was happening in his dreams in short terms.

“Two James Barnes’s in the past?” Twins, that’d been a different outcome to what happened. He’d have had two Bucky’s as best friends and that would’ve been an even larger pain in his rear. Maybe it would’ve been fun too. Who knew.

“Yes. He was in the truck when I jumped in, he got us into the base through a window. He knew where the cell’s were, the ones holding the Unit’s, he knew which hallways to take to get to where Bucky was being held. He even had the arm and mask. He was hiding his face, but I knew it was him. Not the past version of me, he didn’t seem to recognize him,” It didn’t entirely make sense that he didn’t recognize him. He would have thought that seeing Bucky would’ve been the best thing to happen after all this time.

“And these dreams are troubling you,” Steve instantly began nodding, thinking for a moment before opening his mouth.

“Yes. Every time I fall asleep, I have like… a clip, a short scene between me and Bucky. He’s there in every one,”

“What does he say?” the Soldier creased his brows again, dropping his gaze and jumping back into his dream for a moment.

“Well… the first one was when I jumped into the truck and I saw him. He was dressed as the Winter Soldier, a balaclava hiding his face, but it was him. He said he was a specialist and that he was on my side. The next one, I didn’t say anything, Dugan did. He called him Barnes. So they knew he was Bucky, sort of… I guess,” he was hesitant, uncertain with that assumption.

“The next time, we were walking through the hallways towards Bucky and he told me which way to go. I asked him ‘how does he know’ and he said that he’d been there before, in the same situation and that he was the only survivor. I pointed out his arm and he said the experimentation worked,” Steve’s tone had dropped again, sounding pained and sad from recollecting everything he said in a few short words. It actually hurt to repeat it.

“So, he was aware of what happened to him and who he was,” He was Bucky, he was the Winter Soldier and a man who’d been through too much in his life.

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. He was tired, too tired, and they had nothing. They were just sitting there in hiding. Hiding from the Government and Tony, Shield. They had nothing to fight towards now that Bucky was gone. He wanted to fight for him, to give him justice. He wasn’t dead, he was sure of it.

He didn’t look up to notice the thoughtful expression on T’Challa’s face before he politely excused himself, stepping away to leave him in his silence again.

\----------

They’d made it to the clearing. It was still dark, but the sky was getting a tad lighter, the sun not getting through the tough clouds and it was cold. He could feel it through his thick tactical gear. Jamie knew that the others had to be cold too, way colder than him, maybe not Steve, who was standing with the posture and the mindset of a Captain. He was watching over everyone who was resting, leaning against each other and trees and sitting and lying down for a breather.

He was standing just off from the man, keeping his gaze sharp, even though he knew that no one was attacked at this point along the road. There would be no attack and he knew that he could relax, but the Captain was making it hard, as well as his thoughts about the future. He knew exactly what was going to happen now that he knew that everything was set in stone. He couldn’t change it. He’d try, he’d damn well try and save Bucky, but he knew that it’d be hard.

The only difference he was making at this time, was being there…

Would Steve be getting these memories? He came into contact with himself and he started getting his own memories through Bucky’s point of view. So… would the Steve in 2017 be getting these memories too?

If so, then he could probably find a way of communicating through Steve to the futures Steve. He’d have to make it subtle enough that he’d see it, but not noticeable enough that this Steve would understand. And that was the problem. They were the same person. He’d have to find something that only 2017’s Steve would understand.

That would’ve had to have been a thought for later as he saw Dugan heading his way, looking as tired, if not more so, than others. He lowered his guard a tad as he got closer and closer, wanting to seem calm and composed and not about to shot at the littlest of sounds.

“You think we’re gonna be attacked, Canon?” the man questioned with a smirk. He knew they wouldn’t, from literal past experience and just knowing by the fact that they were closer to being back behind their line. The Nazis wouldn’t come this far now, and definitely not with this number of men against them.

“No,” he replied curtly, eyeing the other soldier calculatingly. He was thankful that Dugan hadn’t been one of the ones that was experimented on. Apart from Bucky, he was the only one he regularly talked to after they actually started getting along. His _father_ would be spending more time with Steve now that he was there.

“Good. Just saying, you’re making a few of the guys anxious with all that gear on and your ‘ _I’m ready to kill Nazis_ ’ posture. You look dangerous,” he then frowned under his mask, his brow creasing and furrowing.

“Which guys?” Dugan didn’t seem bothered by it, but he saw a small group, over the man’s shoulder, start whispering and muttering between them, occasionally turning his way.

“A few from the other Units. Pretty sure that they haven’t gotten word of you yet. The Walking-Tank of the 107th,” It had a ring to it, he’d admit that. The name was growing on him. So was Canon. If he ever got back, he’d be sure to talk to the ones still on his side if they’d stick to calling him Canon and Jamie instead of Bucky and James.

“Maybe I should sit down with them,” the corner of his lips drew up as he finally made a joke in this down time. He needed to ease up, calm down and drop his attitude and demeanour. Everyone was safe, Bucky was safe, Steve was there. The only thing he had to worry about was that train and they had a while before they got close to that part of the timeline.

“You do that and they’ll probably piss their pants,” Dugan chuckled back, his arms crossing over his chest with a bit of a tilt to his head. How the hell did he still have his stupid hat after all of this?

“What should I do? Hang around at the Captain’s feet? Stick by Bucky?” That would’ve been best at that point. Sticking by them would make him seem safer, that maybe the Captain had a leash on him. He hated the thought, but it’d be sure to lower everyone’s fear that he was a danger to them.

“That would probably lower the danger-rate,” the other soldier shrugged, his smile having dimmed, probably from the same thought. It was odd that Dugan seemed to understand a bit more than Bucky did, about his appearance and active anxiety of the worst. He’d have to ask him if he knew about him, knew that he was more aware of what was going to happen. He was afraid that Dugan might’ve already figured out who he was. He was smart, too smart, even when he played dumb.

“America, freedom, my ass,” Jamie muttered to himself and crossed his own arms as he gazed away for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to look at Dugan. “Let the girls now, if they’re afraid of me, say it to my face instead of sending a guy that knows me,”

“You got it,” he got a shoulder shove with the affirmation and he shoved back, gaining a tired laugh from the other man. Jamie strode along the field, still keeping his gaze sharp as he closed in on where Bucky and Steve were. Like he’d thought, they’d be spending more time together, he remembered it from his own experience. At least that meant he’d have the time to plan ahead, to try and save Bucky while Bucky was with the Captain.

“Jamie,” he drew himself out of his thoughts at Bucky’s call, eyeing him and Steve as he reached them. They looked tired, Bucky more so, understandably. Being a test subject took a lot out of him.

“Hey,” he replied as he stood in front of them, gazing over his shoulder for a moment. He was tired too, but thankfully, the Serum was overlapping that exhaustion, keeping him awake and aware. It'd be the same for Steve.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, his eyebrows raised high in obvious question and Jamie wasn’t entirely. He wasn’t completely okay. His mind was asking and answering questions, wanting to find ways out of this, to save Bucky, to get back to his timeline, to talk to his own Steve and get ahead of the problems and issues he knew he’d cause if he did manage to change the timeline.

“Yeah,” he answered with a sigh, his chest rising and falling. He turned his eyes back to the two, noting Steve’s silence and Bucky’s ‘resting-bitch face’ as Barton called it back in 2017. “What?” he eventually asked.

“You wanna try that again with some truth?” the man had seen through it easily, being him, it wasn’t really surprising. The emotions he still had were still similar to Bucky’s from the past, so it was understandable that he’d be caught out.

“I’m agitated, nothing new,” Jamie replied curtly, his creased brow returning.

“Why?” the Captain broke his silence, seeming mildly confused and curious. Everyone was agitated, he knew this, but he was probably the man that Steve didn’t want to see irked. Out of the Units, Steve, Bucky and himself, he and Steve were the only ones that weren’t entirely affected. They’d snuck in together, they weren’t used and caged.

“It’s nothing. My appearance is just scaring a few guys from another Unit,” he replied honestly, his arms still crossed as he had his back to the rest of the men. He didn’t want to see the fear or wariness. He knew he looked darker and was aware that his name hadn’t gotten to most Units over the months he’d spent with the 107th.

“I don’t really blame them. You look- uh,” Bucky started, but instantly cut himself off, and that drew a lazy smile to his face under the mask, his eyebrow raising to show his curious and amused reaction.

“You wanna finish that sentence, Sergeant?” he was sure that they could hear the amusement in his tone as well. He was trying to ease up and he could feel himself slowly relaxing under the humour of this situation.

“Whoa hey, what’s with the ‘Sergeant’? What happened to Da-,” Bucky began, but Jamie cut him off this time, trying to save himself.

“-Not here,” he blurted, dropping them into a silence again and noting the confusion covering Steve’s expression.

\----------

Tony was sitting in his personal workshop in the Avengers Facility, staring at the yellow-y orange stone behind the ‘ _everything_ ’-proof glass. He didn’t get it. What it did, what it was. And he hated not getting something, not understanding something. He made his motto, or rule or whatever, that he needed to understand everything.

Whatever this rock was, it took away Barnes. Poof! And he was gone. But he didn’t actually think he was gone. There would be something left behind to show for it, but there was no evidence, which made him believe that Barnes was still alive somewhere, somehow. He was still breathing, or at least, that was what he believed.

“Jarvis, scan it again,” he requested calmly, his arms crossed with his hand scratching at his goaty. He’d figure this out. He’d try to understand it.

“ _Yes, sir_ ,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter. I'm finally bringing in Tony and he'll be having his own chapter soon, or have a chapter, I'm not sure. We'll see. :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I was busy with some weird stuff, but I'm back and completely back into writing again :) I'll try to add more through the next chapters and hopefully not screw it up.

He had to bring in the big guns. The biggest of big guns. The gun of big guns that guns feared. Bruce Banner. Stark was sifting between working and watching, trying to get more of a read than what he’d actually managed to gain on the stone. He’d learnt that it dissolved things, turned a few to dust in the process. He was left with black and grey powder on his workspace where the rock was still in its containers,  _ ‘everything’  _ proof. He still didn’t entirely get it, but Banner seemed to be. He was rounding it, staring at it, writing things down and humming to himself whenever it seemed like he might’ve picked something up.

“It’s definitely an Infinity Stone-,” Tony instantly slammed his head down on his desk, a loud thud echoing the room along with his tired groan. 

“We already knew that!” he huffed aggressively into the flat surface, lifting his head up just a little to drop it and doing the same again and again and again to maybe… get an idea through concussion. Anything would help at this poin-

“ _ Sir, King T’Challa is on the line, shall I declin- _ ” Tony instantly sat up straight and stared to the ceiling with an intensely confused expression.

“What the hell could he want,” he asked himself as he crossed his arms on his desk, glancing to the box with the stone to stare at it.

“ _ Sir? _ ” he creased his brow and cleared his throat, noting the way Banner stared at him with a questioning look, like he was interested in whatever  _ Pink-Panther  _ had to say and what Tony was thinking. He was, honestly, not thinking much, because he didn’t know what he wanted and he wasn’t sure why he’d call Stark in the first place.

“No, answer,” the man finally spoke up, his lip being bitten on the inside as a screen appeared at his side, his Highness himself sitting in a plush and fancy looking chair on screen. Clearly he had a built in communications relay in his tv.

“Highness,” Tony simply greeted, Banner saying a quick ‘Your Majesty’ in the background before he went back to working on the stone, Jarvis scanning over it for the umpteenth time since he came in.

“Mr. Stark,” the cat man replied just as curtly. “I trust you’ve had progress with the Stone,” just by his tone, he’d say that was complete and utter sarcasm, the kind that only Tony could pick up on. Anyone else would think it was a statement. 

“You can bet your Cat-Woman suit, we have,” the only reaction to that, sadly, was a brow flickr. So not much of a reaction. “It’s a shiny, orange stone,” he quirked a forced trademark smile at the King, noting the light huff that left him. Obviously, Stark’s  _ charming  _ attitude wasn’t appreciated. 

“I believe it’s something more. I may have information. ‘ _ May have _ ’,” ...well that was really interesting. 

\----------

Jamie hiked, keeping pace with Steve and Bucky, standing at their side. They were finally back, he could see the faded red and white bar between them and the base. They were getting closer and closer, men gradually gathering at the line. Smiles and beaming grins, a path being made for them to get in as the bar raised up. They were all free and Jamie let a sigh of relief slip from his still covered mouth. 

They had weapons, tanks, a lot gathered and taken from the Hydra base where they’d been held. He took a glance at Bucky, seeing the straining straight face. He was trying hard not to smile or freak out from finally being in a safe zone. He remembered this. He remembered the intense weight lifting as they passed the line, the Soldier for the second time. That was when the cheering started, smiles widening as they strode through the base with hundreds of men following close behind with the weaponry. 

… He missed this. The feeling of safety. It heated his usually cold insides. Yeah, he got a few odd looks as he strode on Bucky’s other side, but it didn’t stop the victorious and congratulatory slaps on the back that most of the guys got as they got further and further into the safe zone of the base. 

And then he saw him. And her. They’d neared the centre of the base, everyone gathering around as Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter closed in. Jamie shifted that much closer to Bucky and as if he noticed, Bucky glanced to him for a split second, giving him a reassuring smile. He didn’t know how to explain it completely, but it was as if the parental tick in Bucky’s head was real, real for the Soldier, for Jamie. He wouldn’t see it any other way. He believed that Jamie was his kid, so that instinct was real to the man.

Either way, it drew a warmth to him, a sense of safety. He took a breath and stared forward at the two as they slowed to a halt in front of them, Phillips glancing to him with a strange look and Carter seeming all too wary. And hell, Steve seemed to notice and cut in.

“Some of these men need medical attention. I’d like to surrender myself for disciplinary action,” he also remembered this. He remembered smacking Steve upside the head when they’d finally had time to sit and relax. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Phillips spoke up. Jamie could feel eyes on him again and he took a glance ahead of him and to his side, noting the gazes staring at him and his arm, Carter’s more so. She was gawking, her mouth just slightly agape. And then she looked up to his own eyes and she swallowed, composing herself. He’d watched her with a cold, calculating gaze, an expression of second nature to staring unfortunately. He couldn’t ‘not’ respond like that.

Phillips then turned and went to leave the area, saying some comment to Carter before he passed by her.

“You’re makin’ that look that scares people again,” Jamie creased his brow and turned to Bucky, seeing the half amused, half parental look about him. “You know, the one that makes it look like you’re about to gut someone,” there were too many people surrounding them, it was a possibility that he’d freak out and gut someone.

….. That was an internal joke.

\----------

They had a room, well, two rooms, one next to the other. It was bucky’s request. Jamie wouldn’t have minded so much, though he was thankful for it. He was relieved by it, but… what he wasn’t so happy about, was the fact that he had to show and tell Steve, who’d be there any minute. Bucky had arranged it, made sure that they would all be in one room to show him the resemblance. Dugan was already aware, the rest of the Units, apart from the 107th, knew nothing of this. So he’d be showing them soon.

He knew this because they were all meant to going out to get wasted soon, and then the Howling Commandos would be arranged, thanks to Steve. Said man had actually just finished his meeting with Phillips and Carter on the matter of Hydra by about half an hour ago. So, it wasn’t a surprise when the original Super-Soldier knocked on the door, Bucky going over to open it.

Sure enough, it was him and he’d stepped in rather timidly, glancing between the both of them like he was about about to get a reaming from the two. He noted Bucky closing the door and his expression just tightened.

“What-ah, what’s going on?” he asked with a little concern.

“We got somethin’ to show you,” Bucky started, moving back around to Jamie’s side to stand there so Steve could see the both of them. It wasn’t really a  _ ‘we’  _ thing, because his  _ father  _ basically told him that it’d be simpler to just show him instead of the guy finding out by accident or calling  _ him  _ Bucky when it was actually Canon. There’d be a mix up, he knew this. Dugan had already nearly done that around the start when he first joined the unit. Turns out that he looked way more like the past Bucky with his hair in a tie. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

“Freak out? About what?” Jamie eyed the two of them, keeping quiet to watch this play out until he’d inevitably have to take the mask off.

“We-uh, we agree to show you something pretty … insane,” it wasn’t insane, it was more of an impossibility, but who cared? It was just time travel and odd paradoxes that hadn’t happened, yet. He would’ve thought that meeting himself would’ve caused something huge by now, but so far? Nothing, nada, zilch. No big explosions or disappearances of either Bucky nor himself. Everything was just… the same, no changes or worldly differences. It was like he just appeared and had no effect on anything other than Bucky’s story line.

“You mean,  _ you volunteered me _ ,” he then joined in the conversation, clarifying his place in his all. He wanted it to be clear that he was more against this than all for it, because this would draw more questions than answers, but he wasn’t wrong that he’d have found out sooner or later, and it was better that they  _ tell  _ him, rather than he  _ find out _ that there was actually two of them. But it was said that they wouldn’t tell him the relation, the one that Jamie  _ faked  _ for all of this.

He didn’t actually know what Bucky wasn’t going to say. That they were twins? That they were separated years ago and only recently found each other?

“Same thing,” Bucky cut into his thoughts for a moment with a lazy grin, shrugging off his complaint like it was dust on his shoulder. He just shook his head in response and huffed.

“It really ain’t,”

“Just take the mask off,” he sighed with exasperation and gently shoulder shoved him. He just huffed again and reluctantly reached up with lazy, smooth hands, reaching under the neck of the balaclava to push it up over his face and over his hair to take it off complete.

Jamie had to admit that the face Steve made was priceless and he wished that he had something to take a picture with.

\----------

“- And then this guy just came out of nowhere, found him in some run down town with Nazi bodies stacked pretty high,” Dugan exclaimed as if it was his story. He seemed all too happy and pumped to explain all this, even when he wasn’t the one that killed them. It was still entertaining to sit there and listen, leaning back in his chair, slouched with his legs crossed at the ankles under the table with a big keg of beer in hand and laughing with the boys. Yeah, he was laughing with them. He actually made a few sounds through the last few hours that would be considered laughing, but he’d deny it.

Jamie wasn’t wearing his balaclava now, he was out in the open, and he swore that he nearly laughed the most out of himself and Bucky when they saw the faces of the soo to be Howling commandos. Apparently Dernier started spouting exorcisms and speaking about the devil’s work. Or that was what Gabe said.  _ Dernier did, Jamie understood everything he said. He was still multilingual _ . 

“He killed them? ALL?” Monty spoke up, almost choking on his own beer from coughing. Apparently  _ his  _ unit had been the one that hadn’t heard the stories of ‘ _ The Walking Tank _ ’. He seemed more than a little surprised  _ after  _ the whole ordeal or helping them escape, even more so when he finally saw the _ insane resemblance _ between Jamie and Bucky. He hadn’t realized how easy it was to surprise the guy.

“You bet your British ass, he did,” he continued to watch, noting the way the Brit’s eyes landed on him with what he’d describe as awe. He was seriously just staring at him like he was the greatest thing he’d been waiting for...

“How?” Morita piped up as he stood for another drink, having just downed his entire glass in what he could tell as one long swallow. He wondered how long it would be before that one big glass took its effect on him, and now he was going up for his next one.

“Stealth. They lacked it,” Jamie shrugged with his answer, quirking both brows before reaching for his own beer and taking a long swig. He wouldn’t receive the effect. He couldn’t get drunk, another side effect to his enhanced metabolism. It’d be the same for Steve.

“And it seems you had plenty,” Monty scoffed with a grin as he continued to drink, taking a large swig from his glass keg. Dernier already seemed to be on his third, Dugan on his fourth, maybe?

“I’m good at what I do,” he replied before taking another longer gulp of his beer. Jamie was actually at four too. He was keeping pace with Dugan, making sure that he was the one going up to get the drinks so Jamie wouldn’t have to. He was comfortable and was enjoying the sit down. He’d maybe get the next few though.

“What d’you expect from a  _ Specialist _ ?” Bucky strode up behind the Soldier, fast and snappy and almost making him jerk in his seat if he hadn’t heard him at the last second. And he was lucky he had, otherwise, he’d have a metal fist to the face, but that would only hurt himself, in a way.

“Oooh, a big shot, huh? Well,  _ Sir _ , how’s ‘bout you pull some strings up top and get us a damn good vacation?” Gabe teased and leaned halfway over the table to get his full attention, a smirk on his face, and he’d caught the few ‘Herehere’s being repeated as an agreement.

“Free drinks? Food? Some girls?” Monty quirked his brow and winked at him with his words. And Jamie shook his head, glancing away for a moment to see bucky moving to take a stool at the bar. 

“I’m a Specialist, not  _ Howard _ Stark,” he’d almost felt like saying ‘Tony’ for a moment. A mistake he would’ve regretted. Everyone knew that he had no siblings, no cousins, no other family, so he wouldn’t have been able to use that as an excuse.

\----------

“And he’s only told you this?” Stark narrowed his eyes at the cat man in question, watching him carefully for any kind of a tell. And nope, he saw nothing, just a serious face as he just simply answered with what he’d hoped for.

“As far as I’m aware, yes,” very interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought. What part did you like the most? :D


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of fun in this one, but some seriousness too. Hope you enjoy.

_ Steve entire body and mind betrayed him as soon as he saw that mask come off. His eyes widened, his heart sped up and he felt a freezing chill snap up his spine. He practically fell backwards and up against the door, leaning back against it with a string of stutters and finger pointing.  _

_ Speechless. He was shocked, scared, surprised and speechless, and more than that, he just couldn’t name them all on the spot, but-.  _

_ Two. He was seeing double, sort of. Was he? They looked exactly alike, but the hair, the other’s build was a little bigger. He worked out more? Bucky seemed completely fine with it. What the actual heck.  _

_ “Y-you, there’s two. How? Why? How did? Why’re you- Bucky?” he instantly turned to the one with shorter hair, the one he knew and cautiously glanced to the de-masked man, his guard higher than it’s ever been. He was having an internal fight or flight moment in his mind, an inner conflict at seeing two Bucky’s.  _

_ … the other one, Jamie. He seemed to work out more, he was a tad bigger, maybe a little older. He was comparing features between the two and the one he didn’t know as well, seemed older, bigger, completely stoic and hard worked. He hadn’t seen him crack a smile like Bucky always did. _

_ Yeah, he made that dry joke when they were in the back of that Hydra truck, the ‘you don’t look like a Star Spangled man with a Plan’, but he assumed now that that was just a ‘break the ice’ comment.  _

_ “Turns out that-uh… I had a brother I never knew about,” brother? Seriously?  _

_ Steve hadn’t caught the way that the second Bucky glanced at him, a relieved relaxation in his body. He didn’t see it. _

_ “Brother,” he repeated in a sigh, his heart beginning to calm. At least it wasn’t something complicated. It brought up more questions, it really did, but that could wait. Maybe for when he could actually speak without stuttering or some guard in his shoulders. This guy was… he was really something and it put Steve on edge, that stare, the eyes. They weren’t Bucky’s that was for sure. He had this… this sad, dark, but blank look. A man that’s been through it and come out damaged. That was his personal thought, he could be wrong, but the way he held himself, the way he talked and walked, he seemed like the kind of guy that was hurt in some way, a way that’s too hard to come back from. _

_ Oh yeah. He remembered him saying that he’d been an experiment in that place where they got Bucky back. _

_ He felt his posture slouch slightly and he swallowed thickly, his hand instantly reaching out for the other guy, a handshake.  _

_ “Let’s start over. Steve Rogers,” he smiled, forced, because he was still unsure, but wanted to make a better impression that a freak out. He could see the quirked brow from the other, a slight raise in his shoulders and his hand reached out too. _

_ “Jamie Buchanan Barnes,” the way he said the middle name almost sounded amused and Steve instantly gathered that maybe that was Bucky’s doing. “Everyone’s been callin’ me Canon,” Canon? Like… Bu’Canon’? Definitely Bucky’s doing. They both had a nickname from the middle name. _

_ And Steve really needed to stop pointing out the obvious. _

_ “It’s nice to meet you, Canon,” he smiled at Jamie, watching the corner of his lip raise just a little. _

Steve gradually opened his eyes. He wasn’t in a sweat anymore, not with this dream. He gradually sat up, pushing himself with his hands behind his back, holding him up. It was a nicer one, an introduction of sorts. He was more curious about it. Curious as to why it was following a pattern, following the story of the past and why he could remember every little detail, like it was happening all over again.

He huffed, rubbing at his sleep filled eyes before looking at the clock. Early morning. He sighed and swung his legs over the bed, deciding to just get up. The King had a training room and he was tempted to use it, having been offered it when they’d first arrived. It’d be a good way to let off steam.

Coffee and then training.

\--------------------

They were still in the bar, the guys drinking down so much that it made Jamie laugh. He remembered getting drunk, the feeling of the buzz getting stronger and stronger. And just being with all these guys again, he couldn’t get drunk, but the feeling and laughter and nostalgia was making him get that effect. He was getting drunk off of them.

He could feel the grin on his face before and after drinking his own cup, he and Dugan having a drink off through one cup and Jamie drank his faster, watching as Dugan finished right after and then ordered more, giving him a challenging stare with one of his own wide grins.

He could see Bucky off to the side, smirking with the stare of a proud parent and if Jamie hadn’t said it before… it really did make him feel like there was a parent-son relationship there, that he was believing his own lie. 

Speaking of lie… he had to pretend that he was actually getting drunk, though it wasn’t really hard. Loosening up was him seeming drunk to everyone and with this particular group of idiots and friends, it didn’t take much. He loved these guys, they were family, and he was instinctively opening up.

His gaze flickered back up to Bucky, seeing the ‘c’mere’ head tilt. Jamie gave a simple nod and held two fingers up to Dugan and the group, who were all laughing and joking around. He gave a mock salute as he stood, picking his drink up and taking it with him around the table as he headed over to his ‘father’. 

“Canon,” the guy greeted with a crooked smile, a hand landing on his covered metal shoulder to drag him into a stool, sitting him down. He sat, carefully placing his cup on the table top with Bucky sitting next to him. There was a comfortable silence there, his hand lingering on his shoulder before drawing back, moving to wrap around his glass to drink from his cup. “You know, you should smile more often,”

“And for the hundredth time, I can’t help it if my face doesn’t want to,” he shook his head with a light smile as he lifted his cup to his face to drink. He turned his head a little, looking back to the table to see Steve sitting where he’d originally been, talking with the soon to be Howling Commandos.

“Steve’s gonna ask if they’d join a team for some missions against more bases,” Bucky must’ve seen him watching them. He turned back to his glass and his ol’ man, giving him a nod. “But I guess you’d know that already?” he asked quietly, being discreet for those around them.

“I know,” he took a longer gulp, tipping it back and placing the empty cup out in front of him. He saw the barman already coming around to fix him another without Bucky or Jamie needing to say a thing.

“I tell you stories or somethin’?” or something. He remembered the drinking games, the skirt chasing jokes and dirty humour that the group shared and the disapproving looks from Steve whenever Bucky was the one to say them. But he’d eventually laugh it off a little, regardless of his high respect for women. 

“Something like that, yeah,” he scoffed. “It’s not future spoilers. You guys turn out to be one helluva team to be reckoned with. You guys get your own exhibition at the Smithsonian's, completely dedicated to the group,”

“That sounds… so damn epic,” he took a long gulp of his drink and Jamie let out an amused huff through his nose, drinking from his own. There was a bark of laughter from the group and they both turn in nearly perfect unison to see Steve up at the bar with the groups empty glasses, a quick share of comments happening before the Captain came around to their side of the bar, and the music amped up a bit, a few guys starting to sing along with the piano.

“See?” he glanced over his glass as he turned on the stool to make sure both Steve and Bucky were in his sight, the Captain now on the other side of the ‘father’. “Told you. They’re all idiots,” Jamie scoffed into his glass and placed it down on the table, turning to see the way Steve watched him carefully. There was still some uncomfortable, guardedness there, but he could see that the guy was trying. 

“How ‘bout you two,” the Captain motioned to the both of them as he sat down. “Ready to follow ‘Captain America’ into the jaws of death,” he couldn’t help the twitch of a smile that appeared on his face at those memorable words. He remembered this moment perfectly and he was thankful for it. He remembered his own thoughts and replies.

“Hell no,” he heard his past self sighed. “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight,” he could almost hear the resignation in his tone, the ‘he’s gonna do it anyway. I can’t protect him anymore’ tone. He remembered feeling it himself. “I’m following him,” and that there, sealed the deal on his fall. He couldn’t help but think that. Those short little words were the promise that he’d fall from that train, leaving Steve to go on alone.

It made him wonder what Jamie could do. If or when he did fall, would he go with Bucky over the edge? Or would he try to console Steve? To win? It was an intense decision and he… shouldn’t be thinking about it. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. If he could save Bucky, then he’d do it. He might be able to. He knew where he’d been standing, what he’d been doing before it. He could push him out of place, or make sure he never stepped foot in that cart-

“Canon?” he snapped from his thoughts and turned to the other two, noting the way they were practically staring at him, watching him expectantly. He then remembered the question.

“Where he goes, I go,” he gestured to Bucky with a tilt in his head and he continued drinking. There was a pause and he was sure that his ol’ man caught him out, probably having felt or saw a grim look pass his face. He figured that he’d probably ask or try to talk to him later.

Thankfully, he heard the music, or the crappy singing, die down, and he knew that that was a cue. He remembered this part too. Miss Union Jack. He waited a moment and felt the atmosphere change just slightly. He turned slowly, looking over his shoulder to see her slowly stride in. He stood the same time that Bucky and Steve did, the three of them watching her.

“Captain,” she greeted directly, completely focused on the man of subject and he knew what was coming. It’d be best to get out of there, drag Bucky away to another part of the bar.

“Agent Carter,” Steve replied. Jamie sighed quietly to himself, noting the way that Bucky eyed her up and down. He shook his head.

“Ma’am,” they both said in perfect unison, sounding almost like a radio and he was really tempted to just get Bucky’s attention away, to which he was going to do. 

“Howard has some equipment you can try-,” she continued talking, but Jamie blanked her and everything out. His mind flashing over the video Zemo had shown. The face Tony made, the feeling of complete and utter guilt washing over him as he saw the way the man looked at him. The pure betrayal on his face after he found out that Steve knew all along.

He felt a freezing shudder hit him and he turned his gaze away from the three. His heart was starting to race, his palm feeling clammy. He needed air. Jamie turned and quickly strode out of the room, hearing his name being called as he left the building.

Howard, Tony. Tony’s mother, just a witness. If Tony had been in the car, he’d be dead too. His mind gave him flashes of the moment, his hand around her neck. His body was shaking with his stride and he soon stopped outside, hiding around an alley corner with his back pressed to the wall. He was panting, feeling the coldness blanketing him. 

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” he whimpered under his breath, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, his head dropped, hair hiding his face as he felt the sting of tears in the corners, soon leaking and running down his cheek. He started sobbing lightly.

\--------------------

Clint almost jumped when his phone vibrated. He reached into his pocket and saw the name on the caller ID. He immediately stood and headed out of the room and out onto the open balcony around the corner before answering.

“Nat?” he asked curiously, seeming as casual as possible with what was going on. “What you got for me?”

“ _ A lot, _ ” she simply answered and he could hear the dull thudding of her thick heels along the marble floors of Stark Tower. “ _ I think I might know what happened to Barnes _ ,” at that, his brows shot up, his mouth opening slightly in surprise.

“Yeah? What? What happened? And how d’you know?” he turned to look over his shoulder to check if anyone was there, no one. 

“ _ Turns out his Highness chatted with Steve and then told Stark. They both have a similar theory now _ ,” similar theory? Great. “ _ He said that Steve told him he’s been having dreams of the past, like, detailed flashbacks, but with the present James Barnes in the past, _ ” he never told him that. Headache, he told him he had a headache. That’d either been a cover, or they may have been giving him the headache. “ _ That stone? It’s the Time Stone. It aged a few things until they turned to dust, _ ” ah, he was starting to understand.

“They think that the stone sent Terminator back in time,” he stated more than questioned, nodding along with the idea. “I can see why. It’s a pretty solid theory since none of us really understand these magic rocks,” he shrugged. “Plus, magic rock that makes Barnes disappear and Steve coincidentally starts having dreams of two Bucky’s in the past? That’s either Steve having messed up dreams about his super-soldier boyfriend or the magic rock did it,” he got it, he understood the theory. It was just running it passed Steve that would be the issue. That would probably have to wait though. Nat’s call. She understood this better than he did, since she was there with the stone.

“Mr. Barton,” he suddenly snapped his head around, his blood running a tad colder at seeing the King himself, standing there like he hadn’t listened to all that. Fuck.

“Gotta go,” he bit at the inside of his lip and quickly hung up the phone, pocketing it.

“Please,” he caught his breath as the Panther turned side on and gestured back inside the building. He was in some serious shit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, flat out saying that, I cried writing in this one. It was pretty hard not to, specifically that part with Howard, Where I made him run and... you know...
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoyed. Please let me know what you thought and what your favourite part was.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been so damn long without a new chapter, but I'm back and Real Or Not is now a priority!! I'll try to get chapters out more frequently and without any hiccups!! 
> 
> I'm back bitches!!

Jamie had gone back to his room, having felt too much like a piece of shit and having done enough self-loathing and self-pitying for the night. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried over anything and it put too much pressure on him. He felt spent, tired, maybe even overtired and with that, he could probably actually get a night's sleep without nightmares. He’d probably sleep heavy after that. He’d spent about half an hour out there crying, so it wouldn’t surprise him.

He was sure that Bucky was looking for him. That was his voice that called for him when he’d left the bar in a hurry. Pretty sure he’d heard Monty and Dugan too, but he couldn’t be TOO sure. He’d been in the middle of a small mental breakdown at the time.

Jamie shook his head and dropped to sit on the ground at the edge of his bed, his upper back pressing against the frame. He huffed and ran a hand through his long hair, pulling thick strands from in front of his face towards the back.

What was he meant to do? What could he say to Bucky? He needed an excuse for leaving like that. He couldn't tell him the truth. That would be stupid. ‘Yeah, I killed Howard Stark and his wife when I was still Hydra's puppet. Oh and I fought with his son, he nearly blew up my arm. If that magic rock hadn't sent me here, I'd be without an arm.’. Bet that'd go over well.

“I hate time travel,” he muttered to himself, cradling his head in his head. It was maybe a sort of lie. He was glad to be back in the time he was meant to be in, back when he was Bucky, but this was like some big joke. He was there WITH him, instead of AS him. He glad, but he also wasn’t. He wanted his Steve back, his timeline where he knew what he was and what he’d done. He hated himself in that time, but he was himself in a way. Jamie was on the fence about everything at the moment. He felt like he couldn’t decide on what he really wanted now that he was a man out of time and having been through time-.

Jamie lifted his head towards the door when it was suddenly thrown open, his eyes opening wider when Bucky practically sprinted in like he’d been running at full speed. He frantically looked around until his eyes landed on him. Jamie pushed himself to stand with barely any effort and that was when he felt the arms wrap around his shoulders, holding onto him like Bucky needed it to breathe.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ do that again,” he heard the other soldier mutter against his neck and into his hair. Clearly, he’d been worried. He didn’t really understand why. In Jamie’s version of the story, he was older than Bucky and regardless of the father son relationship, he was old enough that a father shouldn’t worry as much, if at all. So why did he seem so freaked out and worried?

“Do what again?” he asked lightly, his voice quiet, but still deep and as gritty as it usually sounded. He was honestly stumped. There was no reason for him to be that worried over Jamie just leaving the bar.

“Run off like that! You looked like you were on a mission, you had that dark look in your eye like you were about to murder someone,” a sudden sentence appeared in his head, one that wasn’t his, but it was Bucky’s and it was thought in his voice. _I thought you became that Winter Soldier guy you keep mentioning._ And Jamie’s mouth fell open a little. He’d remembered what he thought when he was in Bucky’s shoes, his side of the conversation.

“I wasn’t,” he answered Bucky with that instead of deciding to test the mental thought. He was sure that it was Bucky’s thought, meaning it was his own, so it didn’t matter as much. He had an idea on how all this time travel stuff worked at this point. There was no need to test anything else.

“So why’d you run off like that?” he needed a good excuse, but all he could really say was a very vague explanation that was closer to the truth than he’d like it to be. So it wasn’t technically a lie and he was pleased with that. He didn’t want to keep lying to Bucky.

“I knew… Howard,” the look on Bucky’s face showed that he was actually surprised about that. “-and his son,” he added, a wider expression crossing his father’s face and he seemed all kinds of surprised at that.

“That playboy has a son?” scratch that. He seemed very incredulous like he didn’t believe a word of it and he didn’t actually blame him. Jamie would’ve been the same if someone told him that Howard Stark was having a son or had one. It’d be a ‘see it to believe it’ kind of scenario and even then, he probably wouldn’t believe it. ‘Nah, that’s his nephew or some shit’ would’ve been a comment from his mouth.

“We’re not on good terms,” Jamie shrugged, not really wanting to elaborate on that one. Stark nearly blew his arm off. If he ever got back, he’d be sure to avoid the man at all costs. He liked his metal arm where it was. He would’ve rathered his real arm, but he’d adjusted to the metal one.

“Is anyone on good terms with a Stark? If this guy is anything like Howard Stark, I’m pretty sure everyone’s lining up to punch him. Anyone that doesn’t have lady-parts anyway,” he was sure he heard some bitterness in that last part of the sentence, and he was sure it was due to the fact that Bucky’s reputation of being a ‘Skirt chaser’ was nothing compared to that Stark.

“He’s a lot like Howard. To-... his son just has the means to make robot suits. We fought, I nearly lost my arm, he nearly lost the thing that’s keeping him alive,” Jamie dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees. He saw Bucky walk over to the door and close it before joining him again, sitting down beside him and close enough that they knocked shoulders.

“That must’ve been one helluva fight,” there was a hint of awe in his tone, but there was more… of something else. Something like he was genuinely listening and letting him talk, a parental feel. A parent really listening to what his child had to say. It was weird.

It actually surprised him, but he’d forgotten how much he actually seemed like his real father. Bucky was so much like him and he was only now really seeing it. That was probably one of the reasons he took to being his _fake_ child so easily. He could because Bucky was so much like his real dad that he could easily pass as that figure.

“I say ‘nearly’ because that magic rock that sent me here hit me before we could kill each other,” and he was sure that if Steve hadn’t been there, they probably would’ve killed each other, Stark probably winning since Jamie never wanted to fight him or hurt him like he did his parents. Jamie deserved it and Tony was in an enraged state that he hadn’t cared. Jamie would’ve lost.

“Please tell me that was just an exaggeration,” Jamie glanced to his side with a flat expression, aware that Bucky had gestured towards the ‘Kill each other’ part of that sentence. Jamie just gave him silence and he saw the drop in his mood, the resignation that passed his face. He was now aware that it wasn’t an exaggeration. “I don’t like the picture I’m seeing in my head of the future,”

“The future’s…” Jamie’s paused to try and pick apart words for the sentence. Describing it was harder when you didn’t like it as much as you thought you would. He’d been such a huge fan when he was younger, but now… “When you actually look at it, it’s beautiful. Tall, glowing buildings, sporty and futuristic cars. A way bigger range of drinks at a bar. Flying suits, coloured tv on huge-ass screens that could fill a whole living room,” he shrugged, seeing that Bucky was really interested in this part of the conversation. He was practically hanging on every word. “It’s just the people. Everything but the people are beautiful. I mean, some of them are great, but most are just… sick and twisted,”

“Sounds like you prefer this timeline over your own,” Bucky huffed bemusedly and shoulder shoved him. At least the mood was light again. He wasn’t fond of all the grimness that hung over him when Bucky first came in and saw him. He was in a much better mood than before.

“I do. Because this IS my timeline. Or it should be,” he could take that in so many ways. The first being that he was being serious and that he was actually from that timeline, or that he thought that Jamie was just being sappy and saying that he liked being in this timeline over his own because of Bucky himself.

“Honestly, Canon, I’d love it if you stayed. You’re great fun and you’re gonna win this war for us. You give all our guys spirit because of the stories goin’ around. The One Man Army. The Tank of the 107th. Some of the Units are even callin’ you our Winter Soldier, thanks to Dugan openin’ his big mouth,”

“What?” Bucky cut in quickly, eyes wide as he stared at Bucky. That name leaked out? Dammit, Dugan! He didn’t want anyone to know about that. He never wanted to tell Bucky, but the guy knew how to make him open his own damn mouth.

“Yeah… people are seeing that name as a hero's name instead of the big, bad Soldier you associate that name with,” he associated that name as the bad one because of the Soviets. The bad guys gave him that name and he wanted nothing to do with it! “Maybe you’ll start seein’ it as a hero alter ego instead of a bad guy one,”

“The Winter Soldier is a monster in my head, waiting for a sequence of words to trigger him,” Jamie frowned, swallowing thickly and huffing.

“The Winter Soldier is a part of you and you can’t really do much about it but embrace all the enhancements that were given to you. The bad guys don’t have you anymore. You’re not their puppet anymore,” was he actually trying to-... lecture him about how to use all the bad things inflicted on him for good actions? “Throw it back in their faces by using all the shit they did to you. Use it to help instead of harm. Save instead of kill-. And maybe smile,”

“And what if I’m triggered?” Jamie asked flatly, the frown still on his face.

“Then I’ll hit you with a rock again,” Bucky replied with a shrug and Jamie scoffed bemusedly, shaking his head and letting a breathy laugh leave his lips. He was such an idiot, both Bucky’s were.

“I’m gonna get you back for that by the way. I ain’t letting that slide,” he stared at him, a crooked smirk on his lips. “Payback’s a bitch,” he shoulder shoved Bucky back, hearing him let out a laugh.

“I can’t wait to see what you got in store for me, Canon. Better be a good revenge,” he felt him shove him back before Bucky stood up, stretching some. He slapped a hand down on Jamie’s shoulder and dragged him up to his feet by the thick jacket he was wearing. The soldier slung his arm over his shoulders and directed him towards the door. “C’mon, we still got a few hours to get wasted. Steve says there’s a big meeting comin’ up and I sure as hell need more than a few drinks,” he dragged Jamie towards the door and then out.

“Canon, old boy,” Monty immediately threw his arms up and slapped them against his biceps, dislodging him from Bucky, who was grinning. He looked at the group grinning and smiling at him. “We were all looking for you. You ran off in such a huff, we all saw,” they all saw him freak out and run off? Where was his damn composure?!

“Couldn’t let you get time to think. We all know how you put yourself down all the time,” Dugan laughed, his cigar bouncing with his words.

“What was that about anyway?” Morita chirped up, arms crossed. Jamie knew for a fact that none of them would believe a single word he’d say, regardless of it being a lie or somewhat the truth.

“Ya’ll know the whole nightmares and panic attacks. He nearly had one of those attacks again and just needed some air,” Bucky jumped in to save his ass, an arm being slung back over his shoulders. “He’s all good. Now let's go get wasted!” Bucky cheered.

Jamie let out a smile, a genuine one and saw Bucky return it before shoving him forward into the group of guys who immediately entangled themselves with him before heading back out for more drinks.

“I say we bar bounce!” Dugan yelled. If they decided to go through a load of bars, they were all going to be drunk as hell. Hey, maybe Jamie would get tipsy if he had enough. He wasn’t a super soldier like Steve, he had an odd strain of the serum. It wasn’t completely complete. So it could be possible.

\-------------------

“So you’re sayin’ that you talked to Stark because you had a feeling that he was working on the Stone?” Clint quirked a sassy brow at the King, staring at him and seeing no twitch or tell that he was lying or was hiding anything. He was so stone faced that it could rival Back-to-the-Future Robocop… Bucky.

“Why would he? He was set on killing him,” Steve chirped in, a curious and concerned frown on his face. He was clearly worried about all of this, and from the knot at the back of his neck, he was apprehensive too, on guard.

“I’m not entirely sure. I don’t know his reasons behind it. But his _need to know everything_ gene is quite strong. He needs to understand how the Time Stone works. And I assume he’s using what he can to test and experiment. I’m sure that if he learns how to use it, he’ll attempt to bring Mr Barnes bac-,”

 _“But not for any of you. I’m doing this for me,”_ Stark’s voice suddenly came over the room in a weird echo.

“Tinman?” Clint spoke up in question. How the hell? Uh… maybe T’Challa let him use his computer tech stuff. Clint was sure that Stark didn’t have everything that he’d need for tackling an Infinity Gem. He just about managed to contain Vision’s Gem and that was with the help of Thor’s lightning hammer. He needed a God to help with that one.

“His Highness let me hack into his mainframe so I could use what I need to mess around with the magic rock,” Yeah, the King let him in. He saw the way Steve was suddenly stiff, swallowing thickly at hearing the guy’s voice again. Dude probably had some paranoia after all that, maybe some PTSD too.

“I assure you, I didn’t allow him to. He did it anyway and _then_ I conceded once I found out,” Tony being a stealthy sneaky bastard again. How the hell did he manage to hack into a Wakanda system-frame anyway? That’s insane level tech. If anything, the King’s system outdated Stark’s by a decade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what your favourite part was. I have to say that the whole father son chat about "The Winter Soldier" being a hero name instead of the monster's name" was my favourite for this one. And the end where they all decided to do a damn pub-crawl XD


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.000+ words on this one.

“So this guy comes up to me and actually pulled on this glorious moustache. The jackass thought it was fake!” Jamie remembered this story. It was pretty funny. The whole punchline was an actual punch. “I’ll tell ya, he was shocked,” a few of the guys chuckled to themselves and he turned to Morita just as he started talking, knowing that he’d ask.

“That it was real?” the guy quirked a brow and the giggling tuned down for a moment. He could see Dugan’s grin get wider. Jamie knew what was coming and he knew that Bucky would be in hysterics. This was one of his favourite stories and he’d literally fallen from his chair the first time he’d heard this.

“No, that I threw a punch, dead centre of his face,” and like he remembered, the entire group blew up in laughter, big belly laughs leaving their mouths and as he thought, it was still funny. Jamie was laughing with them and he turned to face Bucky, just in time to see him holding his chest before he tilted and fell off of the chair, landing on his back while still laughing.

Falsworth had nearly followed suit, but he leaned forward and slammed a fist on the table. The group was almost shaking the table when he heard the doors to the room open. The Colonel was standing there with Steve, the two didn’t entirely look pleased and so their laughter died down fast, though it was all being held in. He could hear Dernier and Morita trying to hold it, snickering through tight lips.

“You chose the team, Rogers,” the Colonel shrugged with a sort of _I told you so_ attitude and then turned to leave. The laughter started and slowed again when the Captain stepped further into the room. Apparently, they’d been talking and he was sure that it’d been about these particular men that were chosen for the _Howling Commando_ team.

“Guys,” Steve gave a forced smile. It may not have been a good talk and seeing the group in hysterics more than likely won the Colonel a point in whatever conversation they had.

“Captain,” Dugan finally chirped up as the rest tried to compose themselves. Jamie had been one of the first to shut up and calm down and Bucky was still trying to get up from the floor when the Colonel was there. He sat back down beside him, the man’s arm being slung over the back of Jamie’s seat as he relaxed. There was still a smirk there, a sign that he was still holding it in too.

“The group’s been accepted, but you still need to convince Phillips that you’re a good team. He doesn’t think you’re up to the task,” Steve crossed his arms. Steve knew for a fact that they were, Jamie knew that because he still had that confident air about him and he was the one that got their acts together before every mission they were sent on.

“We’re up to code, Cap, you know that,” Gabe commented as he leaned forward on the table, arms crossed. The entire group knew that. They rallied well even before they left the base, he remembered that clearly.

“I know, but you need to convince the Colonel of that,” he directed at all of them. There was a moment of agreement between everyone, the guys nodding and making it clear that they would and then he saw Steve’s gaze land on him, a bit of concern lining his features. “Stark wants to meet you,” he said softly and Jamie could already feel the tension build in his muscles. He knew something like this was coming, but he didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to see him, he-.

“You mean he wants to meet his arm,” Bucky cut into Jamie’s internal monologue. He knew what Howard was looking for and what he wanted from him. He was sure that the entire group did.

“He wants to meet the man they call - _The Walking Tank of the 107th_ -,” it sounded more like Steve was trying to believe his own words. Maybe Steve knew that Stark wanted to see his arm too. Jamie knew how protective Steve could be and since he looked identical to Bucky, he was probably sharing the protective need. “He impressed him. Apparently, the stories about him interest him,” that may have been the case, but it was his arm that he was looking for. He knew that there were rumours going around about it being a weapon. To his distaste.

He’d tried keeping a low profile, but it seemed that breaking into a Hydra base to save the Units gave him some reputation and it started to proceed him. Jamie had eyes following him everywhere now that he rarely ever wore his mask. He’d been called Barnes on numerous occasion because the units knew he was related to Bucky. They thought he was his twin.

Speaking of… he was sure that the Howling Commandos, bar Dugan saw him as Bucky’s twin brother. Dugan could see that they were related, just not in the way everyone thought. He just stopped hounding them about it and accepted it.

“Bullshit. He likes advanced tech. That arm a’his? That’s advanced as it can get,” Morita pointed directly at Jamie’s arm. He could tell that he was protecting his ass too. They all actually seemed pretty against the idea of Howard getting anywhere near him.

“I’ll admit that I’m sure that Howard Stark wants to see the arm, but I’m also sure that if Canon tells him that he wants nothing to do with tests or experiments, then the man will honour that request,” Steve tried to explain so that Stark didn’t seem like he was all in it for the arm and that Jamie could take care of himself, and he knew that he could take care of himself, but it wasn't the arm that worried Jamie. It was the fact that he’d be in the same room as the man that he killed when he was brainwashed. He’d be standing in front of the man that he would kill in the future, the reason why Tony Stark tried to kill him.

How would he be able to stand there and talk to him? How would Jamie be able to look him in the eyes and not see the dead body that he left in the car with his wife? A wife who’d witness it all.

“Doubt it. The guy’s married to his tech and that arm included if he gets anywhere near it,” Falsworth sighed. Even having not been here long, he knew who Howard Stark was. He knew what the man was like and had only just recently met him. He was a great judge of character and it seemed that he picked up on Stark pretty fast.

“Not if he wants that metal fist through his face,” Dugan said lowly, like a warning or like he thought that that was what Jamie would do. He wouldn’t. He didn’t want to hurt Stark again, either of them. He swallowed thickly and uncrossed his arms, letting his metal one drop against the table. It made a loud clang, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Can you stop talking like I ain’t even here?” he frowned, staring down at the metal arm, at the hand as he turned it into a fist against the wood. “I’m not punching anyone with it, especially any guys on our side,” he stated, still staring at it. His voice was low, gritty and he could see that they all saw his low demeanour. He knew that it was why they were mostly quiet. Well-... it was why most of them were silent.

“ _Stark isn’t on our side. He’s on his own side_ ,” he glanced up at Dernier after his quiet statement ended. Gabe had been teaching him some English as well as translating this whole conversation with the guy.

 _“ I don’t want to hurt more people that don’t deserve it,” _ he could see the way the man shut himself up, an understanding expression passing his face. He could see that Gabe understood too, but he didn’t say anything about it. He just followed Dernier’s lead and said nothing else.

“Canon?” Steve called after a few moments of silence. It seemed like the rest were still trying to figure out what was said between them a moment ago and they were all quiet. “It's your decision,” the Captain assured him and Jamie just sighed deeply through his nose. He’d have to see the man eventually. He knew for a fact that the man wouldn’t pass up any chance to actually get a look at his arm, regardless of if he’s busy or if they were on a mission.

“I don't want to meet him, but I get the feeling we'll be seeing a lot of him,” because he knew that they would. He was always around when they returned from their missions. He was there to take care of their weapons and give them upgrades when they were needed or when he felt like it.

“You sure?” Bucky asked as Jamie stood up from his seat. He glanced down at his side, staring at him with an unreadable expression. He wasn’t sure. He was sure that he didn’t want to see the face of the man he killed, but it was better to get it over with before the man tried to find him on the field himself. At least he had control of how it went down instead of having him show up outside before or after a mission and getting a load of his arm there.

“If I don't get it over with, I'm pretty sure he'll sniff my arm out like a damn bloodhound,” he replied to avoid a serious talk. He let a forced smirk draw at his lips, reassuring everyone bar for Bucky at the table. The man could easily see when he lied or felt uncomfortable. They had the same facial expressions that matched the emotion and it was obvious that Bucky could see his unease about the whole situation.

He at least understood a side-reason why. He’d told him about Tony, about how he nearly lost his arm and that they were on bad terms and he understood that he was about to meet that man’s father. So Bucky thought that he was worried because he was about to meet the man that birthed and raised the guy he had a civil war against and nearly lost his arm and died too.

“I can imagine him literally sniffin’ your arm,” Morita snickered, gaining a few giggled here and there.

“I’ll let you know if he does,” Jamie gave the team a lazy salute before leaving the table and passing by Steve. He knew where to go, it was just a matter of getting mentally ready for a face to face. He was already so tense.

“You better,” Morita barked as he left the room entirely and headed down the hallways. Along the way, Jamie pulled down the sleeve of his left arm, pulling the baggy sleeve up to the knuckles and slipping his thumb into the worn hole he’d made. The sleeves were baggy enough to do that, it was why they were rolled up all of the time. The hole for the thumb just made it so all of his arm and most of his hand was covered. He didn’t like staring.

A few minutes later and he was stepping into the office area, files stacked above files on the metal shelves. He saw a few gazes watch him as he headed over to where he knew Stark’s desk was. Thankfully, he wasn’t at the desk because Jamie knew that he hadn’t fully prepared himself on the way over.

He was tense, too tense to pass himself off as fine. He was stiff and his breathing wasn’t calm. His heartbeat was bordering on frantic and he could feel it against his ribs, in his head, through his arm and legs.

“You look so tense. Are you okay?” Jamie glanced to the side, seeing a blonde sitting there with a leer on her lips, her posture easy and welcoming. Too welcoming. He glanced away again, taking no mind of her. “Maybe I can help,” he frowned slightly and glanced at her again as she stood up and strode over, her body having an alluring sway that didn’t interest him in the slightest. She was trying too hard.

“Not interested,” he stated flatly, watching her falter in her step before she seemed to not take that as an answer.

“C’mon, _One Man Army_. I’ll treat you right,” she smiled alluringly, getting too close for his liking. He felt her hands reach up and pressed against his chest and he was frowning at her, the centre of his brow line pointing down. “My mouth works wonders,” his frown darkened and he grabbed her arms before they could lace his neck. He controllingly forced them away from him and forced her to take a few steps back.

“Not. Interested,” he said firmly with a darker edge to his tone. He saw that the actions shook her. Her eyes were wider and her posture had stiffened. He’d clearly scared her with the grip and the tone.

“Specialist,” he heard the English, female voice call from behind him. He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing Peggy Carter heading his way. She seemed pleased with something, a genuine looking smile having crossed her lips.

“Miss Carter,” he greeted formerly as she came to a stop beside him. She was still smiling as he held out a hand to him and he reached out his own, politely shaking in a greeting.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, right this way,” she directed him towards where she’d come from and they began walking. He was still a bit uncertain for this encounter. He was still not mentally ready for it, but with how the blonde had acted with him, it’d brought up his walls, which was a good sign. He had some control over himself again. “Good on you by the way. The way you handled her,” was it just Jamie, or did she seem _too_ pleased with how he shot her down?

“She always that desperate?” he questioned in the silence, just making conversation, regardless that it was being wasted on that blonde that tried to get somewhere with him.

“I don’t know. I’ve only recently been introduced to her,” it wasn’t Jamie. Miss Cater sounded scorned in some way and the blonde had something to do with it. “But it’s clear that she wants the fame that comes with flirting and kissing the more famous men of the Commandos,” she was definitely displeased with her, but definitely pleased that he shot her down so aggressively. Easily putting two and two together gave him the thought that maybe the blonde had tried something with Steve and Carter saw it. He wouldn’t ask or mention it though. If it had happened, it was none of his business.

“You clearly don’t like her,” was all he replied with, a smirk curving at the corner of his lips. He could see the small smile edging at her own as they continued down another hallway, men in lab coats spotted here and there and eyeing him oddly and in awe. He saw a few glance down to his left arm, eyeing it over and then whispering to the nearest lab coat beside them.

“Then that makes two of us, Specialist,” he could hear the amusement in her tone and he huffed through his nose before they turned the last corner. His eyes immediately stopped on the man with his back to him, looking over these large shields that he was sure had been a selection that Steve had had to choose from, or would be choosing from.

He could pinpoint when Carter had stopped walking and left him to go do something else. He didn’t bother looking over his shoulder. Jamie only stared forward and felt his heart began to race again. He was staring as he headed over, hearing the man muttering to himself about the shields and something about needing another drink and so on.

Jamie was standing behind him for a few minutes, just listening to him before the Stark turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” he asked as he leaned back against the table with a hand over his chest. Howard stared at him and his heart was still beating too fast for his liking. He stared and got a stare in return.

“Hadn’t been my intention,” was all he said, his voice gritty and his tone tight. He was tense and stiff and could feel his hands turning into fists. He pocketed them and tried to seem as casual as possible while he stood there staring at the man. He could feel the cold shudder run up his spine, chilling his bones.

There was a short flash in his mind, an image of a bloody, older face that belonged to Howard Stark. He swallowed and glanced away for a mere second before dropping his gaze to the shields. He couldn’t look him in the eye. He was feeling slightly nauseous while just standing there.

“So you're the Walking Tank of the 107th,” he heard the man mention, his arms crossing over his chest as he eyed him over. His voice was younger, his face was younger. Howard Stark was younger. He knew nothing of what was to come and he couldn’t warn him. He felt like he’d be messing with something that shouldn’t be messed with. It’d effect Tony in some way, he knew it.

“Not much of a talker?” Jamie cleared his throat and glanced back up at the man, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Looking at him, in general, felt wrong, like he shouldn’t be there with him at all. If this was some kind of second chance, it felt like a sick joke to him.

“No. I just know when someone wants something from me,” he decided to comment, his voice was still tight and gritty, clearly showing that he’d rather be somewhere else. With Bucky and the team preferably. He wanted to get this over with so that he could laugh with them again or just have a decent chat where he could relax.

“You _are_ a specialist. I just like being polite before actually getting down to business. I wanna make sure that I'm not gonna get my head torn off. I hear you can do that,” Jamie huffed, no amusement to his tone and he pulled his hands from his pockets, crossing them over his chest in defence, like some kind of shield.

“I prefer tearing spines out actually,” he vaguely remembered Barton saying something very similar before they entered the airport to battle Stark and his team. Something about working with him so that he didn’t get his head torn off. He couldn’t remember.

“So you _do_ make jokes,” Howard let out a laugh and it sounded maybe half forced, half genuine. It was a little harder to tell. It was much like Tony’s… Or would it be the other way around? Tony’s sounded like Howards.

“Who said I was joking?” Jamie commented without his brain really registering what he’d said. It was something he’d say to Bucky as a joke, as well as to the rest of the team. He knew for a fact that Dugan would be on his back in hysterics with that one, Morita and Dernier too. They were all morbid bastards.

“You're mildly terrifying,” Howard stated flatly and it brought a little amusement to Jamie after hearing him say that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I could have written the Howard scene better, but I'm not sure. I hope you guys liked it and enjoyed this chapter.


	28. Chapter 28

Stark was a major pain in his ass. Jamie had explained rather simply and very bluntly that he wouldn’t be a part of any kind of experiment or test that would involve anything to do with his arm. Though he agreed, Howard had managed to slip in some form of question or wrong assumption about his arm and how it worked, trying to goad him into answering or correcting him, to which Jamie didn’t because he saw it coming. He was far more aware of the man and everything Jamie did or said was tight, stiff and he made it more than clear that he didn’t want to be in the same room. 

Jamie was reluctant and hesitant like he’d been when he saw Steve back in his apartment safe house before the attack. He was edgy and thankfully, that hadn’t shown through. He didn’t want to make it seem like he actually had a weakness.

And speaking of weaknesses, his own was heading towards him, the rest of the Commandos following swiftly behind. He was still in the weapons room after talking with Stark and he’d left to go get some weapon designs or something, leaving Bucky there alone with a few labcoats.

He didn’t want to label Bucky as a weakness because he wasn’t really, but… in another sense, he was. He knew that the man could handle himself because he  _ was _ this man way back when, but now, he felt a strong need to keep him away from danger and out of trouble.

“So? Did he sniff your arm?” as soon as Bucky asked that he could see that Morita’s attention was completely focused on Jamie and he let out a bemused huff, nodding some.

“Yeah, he was all nose. Surprised he didn’t take the arm off with how strong the inhaling was,” Jamie forced a smirk and the other Commando immediately turned around towards the others, calling out a few  _ ‘pay up’s _ at them. So they’d clearly had a bet going after he left then. He saw only Gabe and Dernier pay up, meaning that most of them thought that he’d try sniffing the arm. Jamie scoffed.

“So what happened? He try anything?” Bucky caught his attention again and Jamie glanced towards him in time to see the arm and feel it being slung over his shoulders. He lifted his hand and patted the man’s back in a simple gesture and they both stood there.

“Well, in his words  _ ‘you’re mildly terrifying’ _ was the real first impression. I told him I wanted nothing to do with any experiments and I didn’t want to talk about it. He was persistent for all of half an hour and then he shut up when he figured he wasn’t getting anything outta me,” he shrugged in reply.

“That’s ma boy,” he felt Bucky’s hand pat him encouragingly and proudly with a wide grin on his face. He really seemed like a proud father and all Jamie did was stare with a crooked, lazy smile on his face. The way he said it actually brought more warmth to his, the feeling welling in his chest for a moment. He’d realized a while ago that he liked being praised and by  _ himself, _ it brought some confidence to him each time and it felt like he continued to climb out of his shell with each word.

“Barnes-,” both Barnes’ turned towards the open hallway that led further into the weapons area and Howard paused, staring at the two of them with a questioning hum and then pointed towards Bucky. “That one. James Falsworth and Jim Morita. With me, I need to go over what weapon you want,”

“Welp, I’ll see you in a few,” Jamie nodded in reply to Bucky and felt him pat him again before pulling his arm back and heading towards the Scientist, his posture seeming to change to being guarded. The rest of the Commandos that were called seemed the same. Both Morita and Monty’s smiles now seem a tad forced, a front. Jamie eyed them but barely thought any further on it because he’d been the same, the only difference being that Jamie had killed Howard later on in his life and he had a real reason to not want to be in the same room as him, let alone speak with him for a 

“Delightful. I suppose we’re being measured as well?” he heard Falsworth speak up as he left the room, his voice echoing slightly off of the bare walls and Howard's voice soon followed after him.

“Yeah, need to make sure everything’s perfect,” Jamie was aware that the man was precise, and if he remembered right, the weapons were perfect for the Commandos. He huffed and tried seeming relaxed as his forced his posture to loosen up. The rest of the Commandos hung around, though from what the soldier could see, Dugan seemed shifty, eyeing him and Jamie returned the gaze, though with more focus and less faltering. He was still and showed that he saw Dum-Dum's Waverly behaviour.

That seemed to prompt whatever the man was thinking about and he saw the bigger man step away from the table he stood at, rounding it and coming up beside Jamie, who was leaning back against the table with his arms crossed. He could see the hesitance before he just huffed outright and then shrugged.

“Need to talk to you,” clearly. The way he said it made it seem like it was important enough that it needed to be in private. The way it was stated seemed like Dugan didn’t want others to overhear and Jamie would respect that. He pushed from the table and then sidestepped the bigger man before heading over to the far wall where nothing was stationed and where no one was standing. They were far enough away that no one would overhear them if they spoke quest enough.

“What is it?” he asked simply as he stopped about a foot from the wall, Dugan turning to lean his shoulder against it, both of their arms crossed. He saw that Dugan was still hesitant because his gaze wouldn’t focus directly on Jamie.

“Buck told me about the whole… time travelling son thing,” he was then being stared at as if he was gauging his reaction. Jamie hadn’t really been surprised because he didn’t believe the first lie that was told, about Jamie being his twin brother that was dropped off at an orphanage as a baby. “I didn’t wanna say anythin’ before ‘cause we were in a red zone and we  _ all _ needed the time to relax,” Jamie expected that Bucky would’ve kept it all to himself, but thinking deeper on the situation, he assumed that Bucky would also feel the stress of having to keep all of it to himself, so telling one of the closest men that was actually aware of all of this, or more of it than anyone else was rational thought.

“Yeah, I get that,” was his simple response because he did. He actually hoped that Bucky hadn’t kept this from him because he was overwhelmed or stressed out because of it all.

“I don’t wanna come off as a dick, but I don’t believe it,” again, that was expected. He hadn’t believed him the first time, so he wasn’t at all surprised when he didn’t believe him a second time around. Jamie said nothing, standing there staring at him and in his own thoughts, and it seemed to draw a frown onto the bigger man’s face. “What? Not gonna confirm or deny?”

“No,” he replied flatly, still staring at him with no real expression. He was unreadable and he made sure of that. And by the frustrated huff that left Dugan, he confirmed that he had, in fact, tried to read him.

“Why not?” again, Jamie didn’t answer that, he only shook his head, showing that he was denying him an answer to that question. “Who are ya?” he then asked and again, Jamie shook his head, turning to glance back into the centre of the room to make sure that no one was listening.

“I wasn’t lyin’ about the time travelling. An Infinity Stone really did throw me back here from 2017,” he turned back to Dugan, seeing that he was still sceptical about the whole time travelling rock story. He was internally exasperated with him. He’d be sceptical even if he saw the rock for himself.

“I feel like there’s a  _ ‘but’ _ here somewhere,” the man huffed and he was right, Jamie had a ‘but’ in this conversation.

“But… I can’t explain anything else,” because he knew that even though the time was set and solid, it wasn’t his place to tell him everything. It was the timeline itself. There were some things that really couldn’t be explained and in this time, his story what sent him here was one of those explanations that shouldn’t be elaborated.

“And why’s ‘at?” Dugan pressed and Jamie actually let out an audible huff. He didn’t get it and Jamie didn’t want to explain any of it, regardless of if he even believed him. You could sit a rock in front of this man and tell him it was a simple rock, and he’d be sceptical.

“Because this isn’t the  _ time _ for it,” Jamie said seriously, only then catching what he said and internally laughed that the irony of that unintentional pun. He saw Dugan’s brow raise at that and he shook his head, not wanting to actually answer for that.

“Making time travel jokes?” Dugan asked with a humourless smirk. It made Jamie internally debate on whether it was actual bemusement he felt or if he was incredulous that he actually made the pun.  _ Without realising. _

“I thought you knew me by now. I don’t make jokes,” he gestured in general. He wasn’t entirely serious. Jamie had made a few jokes over the last few month, albeit they started off dry and not so funny sometimes, but as he was drawn from his shell, he’d even had Dugan belly laughing.

“No one here knows you,” Dum-Dum then stated seriously and honestly. It was a bite at the fact that Jamie had been lying to all of them about almost everything and he knew that. It didn’t make him feel any better about it, but it was necessary for his situation. If Dugan actually knew about him and everything that had happened and the situation as to how or why he was there, then he was sure he’d understand Jamie’s actions and lies.

“You  _ ‘do’ _ know me, just not  _ this _ me,” he stated quietly before turning and stepping away from him, leaving him there with that reply that was so cryptic he was sure that Dugan would be after him asking questions again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is a tad shorter. I was meant to make it longer. I'm not gonna make any excuses because I've managed to update other stories with longer chapters. 
> 
> I just needed a filler chapter, this one being that and it seemed fine at this length. The next chapter is when stuff happens. I now have an awesome way of actually ending this story and honestly, we're not far off.
> 
> Thank you all for being here to read and encourage me to write this. I'm really seriously grateful you're all here.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back up to 3.000+ words on this one. Made me proud.

He’d had a haircut, Jamie had literally just had his hair shortened. Not by much, but it was short enough that it wouldn’t get in his face and it was long enough that he still wouldn’t be mistaken for his father.

Jamie had stared into the mirror, taking in the details and careful layering of every length and strand. He’d forgotten how good he actually was with a scissors-, how good Bucky was with one. He remembered joking about opening up a barber store once he got back from the frontlines when the war was over and they had peace. It made him really focus on his words and what was said and thought during the time. It made him feel… almost empty because he never got back from the war. He was a soldier, still a soldier… seventy years later and he was still on the frontlines.

He’d grinned and thanked Bucky once the scissors were given back and everything was cleared up. He even messed with a few thick strands, tucking some behind his ear because it was long enough to do that and not get in his face.

A few hours later and they were walking back into the armoury, the team making a crack about his hair and the even closer similarity in their appearance. With shorter hair, it was clear that they looked even more like each other, but they could still be told apart from each other.

What caught his attention was the way that Steve stared at them, glancing between them with a smile. He’d warmed up to him, which Jamie was thankful for. The man strode over, his hands raising and grasping their shoulders in greeting.

“Bucky, Canon,” he gave their limbs a squeeze and stepped back, arms crossing and gesturing over to where Stark was spreading out their weapons, looking over them and noting some things down. From what he remembered as Bucky, this was where they were given their guns and sent on their way to the boardroom, where Steve and the Colonel would be giving them the plan of action.

There was still time, he could explain why he wanted Bucky to stay back on this, but he knew for a fact that it would be in vain. Wherever Steve went, Bucky followed. And Jamie would follow close behind. It all felt and was so familiar and he was having a very real case of Deja vu from all of it. Going back to fighting Nazi and Hydra tanks and soldiers and taking down base after base after base and then the train.

He wouldn’t be anxious. Jamie would keep it to himself and deal with it.

He took a very subtle breath and calmed himself as the group talked amongst themselves and waited on Stark. He could feel the gaze on him, Dugan’s definitely. He’s been visually following him since their last talk and he knew that he was trying to figure out what he’d meant with his comments, the look of calculation and searching plastered to his face. Jamie had ignored him for the most part but continued to stay aware of the looks he gained from him. And none of it had been questioned as of yet.

\----------

“- So if we start small, with the less protected bases and work our way up, we should be able to-,” Jamie had zoned in and out of the planning and mission. He knew what they were going to do, had been through it before and knew that Canon being the tank of the group, he’d be ahead with the Captain, a few feet ahead of Bucky as protection and a walking shield.

He was already aware of his position and where he was wanted and could be effective. Jamie actually had a hand in choosing where to be when they broke into each base, to Bucky’s dismay since he wasn’t really fond of the idea of Jamie going in ahead of him. He was sure that that was his fatherly instinct acting up. That’s what he chocked it up to anyway.

“-That’s where Canon comes in. He could easily get in and take out the guards before anyone notices,” he heard Steve cue him and he turned to glance at the Captain and the Colonel, who glanced over at him and he stared back with a calm exterior.

“Think you can do that, Barnes?” Philips spoke up, asking him sceptically and Jamie scoffed disrespectfully, a lazy smirk on his lips for show.

“Of course I can,” he shrugged and relaxed in his chair, arms crossed over his chest and he heard snickering coming from a few of the guys around the table. They knew for a fact that he could. He was that good and every one of the Commandos knew it.

“He could do all our jobs and still do it better than us,” Morita huffed and a laugh and more chuckled resounded around the table, echoing in the room and he could see the exasperation on the Colonel's face when he saw that they were talking about something other than the job.

“Not Gabe’s. I hate talking to people,” Canon shrugged and he saw Gabe immediately have a short laughing fit and then relax, arms on the table with a wide grin on his face, looking all proud that the Soldier couldn’t actually do his job, or at least admit that he couldn’t.

“See? Canon’s gonna need me on his team if he gets his own,” Gabe smugly shifted in his seat and then relaxed back into it, making a show of lifting his arms and entangling them behind his head, the smug grin still there as he silently gloated. It drew a smirk to Jamie’s lips and huffed a chuckle through his nose, gesturing towards the German of the team.

“And Dernier. I need a good laugh,” there was a moment of silence before Gabe translated and then he immediately burst out laughing, sending him a few comments in his language that Jamie understood and a thumbs up while still grinning.

“Oh, that right? Then what are we?” Dugan gruffed, though there was a grin on his own face as he perked up. It was nice to see that he wasn’t entirely focused on Canon after that. He put on a good front. There was more laughing and even Steve looked a bit exasperated as they continued.

“The guys that make  _ us _ look better,” Bucky replied after lacing an arm around Jamie’s neck to bring them closer, even the legs of their chairs connecting when his father shifted towards him. They both shared a laugh and sat there beside each other for a moment, Bucky not seeming to mind that they sat together with so much contact. Canon actually didn’t mind the touch anymore either. He’d gotten used to it after remembering that Bucky back in this time didn’t have any issues with space invasion. He had no space bubble.

“I beg to differ, gents,” Falsworth spoke up and the two quieted down, both glancing over to him as the mood was still light and chipper. He then felt Bucky tap his shoulder with the hand that was around his neck and glanced to his side at him, seeing him shift closer to whisper. Though when he talked, it wasn’t a whisper.

“Monty’s got a point, that accent effortlessly gives him a place in the sexy half of the group,” Bucky and Jamie looked between themselves for a moment, putting on the front that they were actually discussing it and it was amusing. He had a smile on his face, though he effortlessly held it back when Steve cleared his throat and regained everyone’s attention.

“Guys-... focus,” the Captain sighed and they all returned to listening to him explain the tactics and bases in detail. Jamie returned to zoning in and out since he already knew what was going to happen and where he’d be placed. And regardless of not listening, when he was called to answer something, he knew what to say and how to word it. Canon had been with Steve in the base and he’d seen the map, so he had as much of a say as Steve himself did.

\--------------------

Steve was staring at the screen, his expression solid and unreadable as he stared at Stark as he came into view, covered in whatever he’d been working on. He was sitting in the kitchen area of the living room shared by the whole of Team Cap and most of them were actually there, all sitting awkwardly and out of place because Stark was there on the screen, able to see all of them. It hadn’t been long since he woke up and again, he’d had more dreams, more memories of what was happening in the past, only mildly affected by the fact that Canon was there.

“Am I the only one that feels awkward?” he heard Tony’s voice clearly, no static whatsoever between the mic and Steve huffed lightly, feeling all kinds of awkward and he knew that the others were feeling it too, even if they didn’t seem it. Barton and Falcon managing to hide it, but he could see it, Clint less so. He was too good at hiding things. An example would be the recent chats he’d been having with Natasha. They’d been working together to figure out what the stone was to help them. To get Canon back? He wasn’t sure. But he trusted them still.

“No,” Steve answered slowly, staring at the screen where Stark was standing beside the table with the stone sitting there in a glass case, everything proof, he’d bet. He probably went all the way to try and make sure that it was protected inside the glass case.

“Good. Anyway… still having altered memories?” Tony got straight into questioning him without any sensitivity to the situation. Steve was aware that he was still sore about everything, having recently found out what really happened to his parents and that Steve actually knew about it. What he was doing to being a sore winner and making sure that Steve knew it. What he didn’t know was that the Soldier could see that he was hurting and was trying to help. 

They were trying to get Canon back and Tony was helping, reluctantly he seemed, but Steve could see through that. He wasn’t sure what was motivating him or fueling him to do any of this, but he was thankful.

“Yeah, I am,” he crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, still staring at the screen as Stark wrote something down. Was he actually writing down what Steve was saying or just making a note about something he needed to do later?

“What was the last one?” Stark asked as he picked his paper up and looked at the screen, seeming like he would be writing all of this down. He wasn’t sure how this would help him in any way towards figuring anything out about the stone. This was directly from Steve from the past. So how would it have any effect on the Time Stone?

“We were going over the plans before heading out on our first official mission as the Howling Commandos,” just saying the name Howling Commando and he could feel the warm nostalgia rushing through him. The missions, the laughs and good times they shared. The high-fives and winning grins they all had by the end of the jobs. The bases falling and the pictures that were taken with all of them in the same shot. Would Canon be in them now? “The guys were messing around and Canon even made a few jokes-,” he felt a smile start tugging at his lip at the thought that the Canon he knew was actually cracking jokes.

Though it made him feel like he assumed Canon preferred that timeline, where he was actually from. Steve couldn’t fault him. That timeline  _ was _ their timeline. The past was where they were from. They were men out of time and he couldn’t blame him for feeling comfortable enough to make a joke or two.

“Canon?” what? Steve glanced up and registered the questioning gaze Stark was giving him. He stared and then glanced at the rest of the group in the room, the few members of the team watching him carefully. What’d he just say that made them- wait… He’d said Canon, they don’t know him as-.

“Ah… um… Bucky. His nickname is Canon in my altered memories. Bucky’s still Bucky in that time,” he tried to explain as best he could and saw that they seemed to understand. He saw Clint smirk and then let out a laugh as he sat down, a mug of coffee in hand.

“I take it they weren’t that imaginative back then either?” the archer grinned at him and Steve quirked a brow in question. He wasn’t sure what he was actually getting at and Clint seemed to notice that. “Bucky… Canon… Buchanan?” he made a gesture like he was weighing something in both hands. 

“Bucky nicknamed him Canon because he gave him his middle name so they matched. He’s imaginative, but I think he thought it just suited him really well because of their relations,” Steve wasn’t even sure how Cano-.. Bucky? -pulled off the familial connection between them. How did he get Bucky to believe that they were brothers? Also, it didn’t actually feel right calling him Bucky for some reason, like it didn’t fit. But that was more than likely because he was Canon in the past and that was how he was introduced to Steve, as Canon, Jamie.

“What d’you mean?” Sam spoke up, drawing his attention over to him. He actually knew even less about all of this because he was usually in the training room with Wanda, trying to help her out with training since Clint had been busy with other things. 

“When Bucky and Canon showed me his face under the balaclava, he was introduced as his brother. Twin to be specific,” he really wasn’t sure how he pulled it off. He’d have to ask him if…  _ when _ they got him back. Because they were getting Canon back.

“And ol’ timey Steve didn’t think to question it?” Tony spoke up and he looked at the screen, seeing the sceptical expression on the man’s face. Of course, he’d have that look.

“I trusted Bucky without needing to think about it,” was his only answer and he saw the expression disappear and he immediately closed off again, writing more things down for a moment.

“Did anything change? From your old memories to the new ones?” was his question and Steve had to actually think for a moment because his old memories were gradually fading as the time went on. The older memories were gone, he could barely remember them anymore. He could imagine them, but they didn’t feel real compared to the ones with Canon.

“The only thing that’s different between them all is Cano-, Buc...Canon. Canon’s the only difference so far. And the way we react to something he says and does. There’s more dialogue and talking,” he shrugged, watching as he wrote down more stuff. There was a really large moment of silence between Tony pausing in writing and then staring at Steve, though it looked more like he was staring right through him for a moment.

“I think the stone doesn’t affect the timelines fixed points,” he said more in thought than to Steve and there was another moment of silence before he dropped the pen and paper and turned to a computer at his side, starting to type a few things up. “I’ll get back to you in a flash. -By the way, nice beard, Rogers. Real mountain man material,” as soon as he finished the sentence, the screen turned dark and he frowned in confusion.

“Timelines fixed points?” Steve repeated in question and then turned to the group, gaining all shrugs and questioning stares in return.

\--------------------

Ever since the meeting was over and they were hanging around in a random lounge room, his hair had been continuously played with, by Bucky to be specific. He just kept threading it and tugging at a few strands like he wanted to do something with it and every time, Canon would turn and stare at him questioningly because he had no real idea on what to actually say or how to react to the man playing with his hair. What exactly do you say in that kind of situation?

“What?” he quirked a brow at him, still staring and Bucky was only grinning, still messing with his hair like it was natural. There weren’t any odd looks from the group so he assumed that it was fine and only internally questioned why his  _ father _ played with his strands.

“Can I cut it again?” Bucky suddenly asked and continued threading. Canon stared at him harder, blinking blankly because he really wasn’t sure why he wanted to. He’d already cut it and it was fine as it was. Like this, they could still be told apart and yet he wanted to make it difficult? Yeah, it’d be funny to see them question which one of them was which, but that could’ve been confusing on missions.

“You want the team to be confused about which Barnes is which?” he put on a smirk and eyed him, seeing the grin widen and Bucky pulled back from playing with his hair, sprawling out on the couch until his legs were crossed over Jamie’s thighs and the arm of the sofa. He got comfortable and relaxed, Jamie doing the same by just letting him stretch out over him and just huffed a laugh. It would be funny, but maybe if they didn’t mess around and answer for each other, like Bucky answering to Canon when he was called, then everything should be fine. Though it actually may be easier to tell them apart if Jamie made sure to show the metal arm off a bit.

“Yeah, that, and short hair suits you. I mean-, look at me,” Bucky gesturing to himself and they both laughed a little, drawing a huff, giggle and chuckle from a few of the other members of the team as they all relaxed and waited on the Captain.

“Before we head out, yeah,” Canon shrugged and got comfortable, remembering that it’d been a few hours before Steve would show up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think about this one. I brought some present time stuff into it towards the end and would like to know what your opinion on that part was :)


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 30. I'm really seriously proud of this story. I hope you're all enjoying it as much as I am.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story and would like to see regular updates on how the chapters are coming and maybe a sneak peek, follow the Discord server I made especially for my AO3.  
> [He's the server](https://discord.gg/m9YPu3X)

Jamie could safely say that what he’d thought before about _the team being able to tell them apart because of his arm_ was utter bullshit and he’d taken it back immediately when the guys looked between himself and Bucky and actually called _him_ Bucky. He wasn’t even sure whether or not they were messing around or were actually serious. Bucky actually started laughing and that was when they seemed to peg on who was who because clearly, Jamie rarely laughed and if he did, he was never on the verge of pissing himself like his father had been when that happened.

He’d admit that it was pretty damn funny and he cracked a smile and laughed, but he never doubled over and wasn’t on his knees practically wheezing because he couldn’t breathe. The rest of the team were laughing with them after that, making a few jokes about the haircut and how insane it was that they looked so identical. Personally, it felt both weird and great to have his hair cut short. He felt like he was closer to being the man that he was before the train. It was nostalgic and like a dream. Or maybe his life was just one big nightmare and he’d wake up to be Bucky again. _Wishful thinking._

Canon glanced across the carrier of the truck, staring at Bucky for a moment and noticing the way he was staring out the back, between the tarp curtains that were being tugged in the breeze. Like before, he had a few seconds of a memory, what was going through his mind at that moment and it was oddly pleasant, hearing his own thoughts through the man sitting across from him. It was a random thought, about food and the bar. He wanted another drink and something to snack on.

“Almost there, Commandos,” he heard Steve call from the front, though just barely over the sound of the huge tired running over the stones and loose, rocky dirt of the mud path that led to the first base for their first official mission. His heart was only slightly faster, the memories in his mind of what happened in each one giving him small shocks of adrenaline. He was excited to be a Commando again, and it was more thrilling that Bucky was with him, regardless of what happened later on. He felt guilty for being excited, but now that he was sure he couldn’t do anything about the timeline since it was solidly in place, what could he do about it? He’d try, that was for damn sure, but he felt like he should know better, that he shouldn’t be there when that happens. He still wasn’t sure about what he was meant to do.

\----------

Jamie watched the Captain, eyeing him carefully as they all lowered themselves behind cover. It was then that he saw Steve’s hand signals directed towards him and giving him the go ahead.

He slung his gun over his shoulder, the strap holding tight as he skulked away silently and then towards the side of the building. He knew for a fact that he was being watched, but he said nothing and didn’t even look over his shoulder as he put the plan into motion. He was on a mission and he never failed. _A rule that Hydra drummed into him._

The Soldier glanced up at the edge of the room of the building, eyeing it. He could jump that, but it’d mean that he’d have to run at it and kick off of the wall to reach it and that would cause noise. He internally shook his head and glanced to his side, a conveniently placed stack of weapon crates. He stared and then let a smirk tug at his lips as he crouched and continued to skulk. He ducked under a barred window and then snuck around the outside of the crates, stepping up onto the first and then the second and having to move one so that he could use it as a step. He continued this until he could reach the edge of the roof without having to put effort into jumping and then hauled himself up.

Jamie was as silent as before, staying put there for a moment to listen out for any of the Nazi/Hydra soldiers inside and when he was sure that he was in the clear, he turned his gaze towards the area he was sure the guys were still hiding in. He gave a thumbs up, not really caring if they saw or not and headed towards the first roof access point he saw, an ajar window. _They were practically asking to be attacked..._

He snuck over and peeked in, being careful as he looking directly down into the building. He could see a few guards. Three on his Eleven. Two on his Six, under him. There were a few deeper into the small building and there were two on his Three o’clock, guarding the door. Once the Commandos broke the door in, they were going to be plowed down. Poor Bastards.

He took a lingering glance around, taking in everything he could before silently taking a few sneaky steps away so that the team could him. Jamie saw the Captain peeking over the thing that he hid behind and signaled the _OKAY GO._ Not a second later and they were spreading out and coming out from hiding and crowding around the main doors. Canon snuck towards the edge of the building and climbed down quietly, dropping to the ground with barely any noise and stepped up to the window he’d passed by, hiding beside it and waiting for the next signal.

He waited and waited and then glanced through the window just as the Commandos burst the doors in and started firing with no waver or falter, stepping in slowly and it was like he was watching an action movie. They way they burst in and just shot. He was in awe, his jaw even dropped and he’d almost missed his cue.

Canon, slipped on his Balaclava, seeming to only feel like he can really get the job done when his face was half covered. _He didn’t know why…_ He broke the window with a swing of his left arm and threw himself inside, immediately beating down the closest enemy and continuing on to the next when one headed his way, out of the spray of bullets. He was a part of something incredible and he could feel the hot rush building and rush through his veins like hot coffee in a pot that was just heated. He was a Howling Commando again and he knew for a fact that this was what Bucky felt because he’d felt the same back then too.

\----------

Jamie grinned and joined in the cheer when the Commandos gave a _‘HOORAH!’,_ all of them taking a big swig of their beers while still covered in dirt, dust and everything else they got covered in whilst on that very first mission.

They were hanging outside of the Weapons building that Stark was hauled up in, fixing up and upgrading their weapons like they needed it or something. They really didn’t. They just needed more ammo, Dernier especially since he decided to go all out on shooting everyone and everything. He was like a madman and he remembered the first time that happened when he was Bucky. It was the best damn moment he’d had because of how funny it was and how great it was that Dernier actually had no idea of how that particular gun worked. He’d never tried the German Father of the AK-47. The MP-42 and Stark decided to give it the American flair. More firepower and ammo… and an American flag painted on the side. Dernier had been vibrating while holding the trigger down.

“I’ll tell you guys what…” Morita started, already sounding like he was slurring and it had only been a hefty sip. If he was already drunk, Jamie was actually going to laugh. “You’re the best Team a guy could ask for,” Yeah, he was drunk. And he hadn’t been the only one to think about laugh it seemed. A few of them let out a chuckle and then clinked their bottles with Morita’s in a _‘here, here’_ gesture, Jamie joining in.

“Canon,” at his nickname being called, Jamie glanced up and over to the Brit, seeing the halfway hesitant expression on his face, like he was debating on whether to talk about something. “You’re a Specialist, yes?” he continued, seeming like he’d decided he would since he started. “Did you ever have a team before this?”

He paused, his smile fading just slightly. He inched into thought while watching the Englishman, noting that he was second-guessing his decision on asking after probably seeing the demeanor change in him. Canon swallowed thickly, hiding it from the others and then cleared his throat, taking another hefty sip of his beer before answering.

“I… did. Years ago. As rowdy and as obnoxious as you guys,” he said as a joke, hearing the laughs and feigned ‘heart over heart’ hurt expressions, mostly from Dugan and Gabe. He smirked and let out a short laugh before deciding to actually explain. “Jokin’, I’m jokin’. No, I did have a team and they were the best team I had,” he could easily word it so that he could make it come off as another team instead of this very one. A play on words.

 _“Had…?”_ Dernier questioned, Gabe, having translated for him, regardless that the man was learning their language. He still preferred his mother-tongue and Jamie regularly had conversations with him.

“I lost them after I lost my arm,” It wasn’t untrue. He’d lost everything when he fell from that train, not just his arm. He never got to see the rest of the team after that. He had memories through the Winter Soldier’s eyes though. Files with their names on them, but he wasn’t sure if the Soldier had been the one that was sent after them. From what he could tell and what he’d read at the Smithsonian, Monty, Morita, and Gabe had been the ones that survived until the end until Age took them. Dernier had been doing the things he loved most when he died… playing with explosives.

“Sorry to hear that,” Gabe spoke up, his voice a tad wavery and Jamie gave him a forced smile, the group clearly catching it because their expressions dropped. He didn’t want this mood. He didn’t want the spotlight. He wanted happy smiles and cheers.

“No need to apologize. I look at you guys and you remind me of ‘em a lot,” his smile became more real and he could see that the others followed. Monty grinning, along with Dernier, Gabe, and Morita. Dugan was smiling, but he could still see the suspicion in the back of his mind, still questioning him.

“N’aaawww, you going soft on us, Tank?” Dum-Dum teased playfully. He was glad that the suspision didn’t cloud his sassy, sarcastic attitude towards. He was still being treated like the others and he was thankful for that. The man must’ve taken into account that there’d be too many questions if the others got involved, or maybe he wanted to find out for himself before letting the group in on his thoughts and knowledge.

“It’s the beer,” he answered slowly, emphasizing by drinking more of his beer along with a few of the others, who laughed, Gabe almost spitting his back out by nearly choking on it. He’d inhaled about when he’d drank, trying to laugh.

“Nah, don’t deny it, you love us!” Bucky joined in and Jamie pointed the neck of the bottle at the man. He’d been a little quiet during the conversations, probably just enjoying the show.

“Shut your face hole,” he shook the bottle at him, his beer not spilling before pulling it back and resting it against his knee. His legs were propped up on an empty ammo crate, the same crate that Bucky was using as a footrest as well.

“See? He cares! He avoided the statement! That’s a clear sign that he cares!” Morita perked up, clearly over excited and a happy drunk. He was such a lightweight. One beer!

“I say we drink to our new knowledge that Jamie loves us, Gents,” Falsworth raised his beer and a few of the members _‘here, here’d’_ it, raising their own. Jamie only shook his head and saw Bucky raise his as well. He scoffed and just drank his beer, watching them with a smile.

“I’ll drink to that,” Dugan added, his own clinking with the rest of the groups.

“You’ll drink to anything,” Bucky jumped in, a grin on his face and the rest of the team started laughing loudly, all joining in, even Canon.

“Your point?” and the laughter got even louder, to the point that Howard came out later on and shushed them with curse words that would have Steve crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE:  
> A few people through this story have asked me if I'd like them to translate the underlined sentences to German because that's the language their speaking when I use that style.
> 
> I write it like that so that it doesn't break atmosphere for the ones that read this story that doesn't actually understand the language. I can just about get by with speaking German, I'm not fluent. I thought that it was easier writing the sentences that way and no one would have to go searching for what was said.
> 
> Everyone knows by now that when I use the "Itelized" and "underlined" text, it means that they're speaking German.  
> I thank you greatly for the offer, but I'll politely decline. :)  
> \----------  
> If you're enjoying the story and would like to see regular updates on how the chapters are coming and maybe a sneak peek, follow the Discord server I made especially for my AO3.  
> [He's the server](https://discord.gg/m9YPu3X)


	31. Chapter 31

Fight after fight, war after war and kill after kill and it was getting so close. The train. Jamie could feel it. He could feel the intense anxiety building and spread with every flag that was taken off of the plottable back at base. Every fight and every base that was taken out drew them closer and closer to the moment Jamie feared. He knew that he couldn’t do a thing to stop it, he knew that it was all fixed in time that he had to fall, but he knew for a fact that his impulse would be to try and save him. He’d try everything he could, risk every he had just to try and if it came down to it, he’d probably jump out of the train to get close enough to take the brunt of the fall.

It was like he’d planned it out while sleeping because he could imagine how he’d try to save him without any mistake. Jamie was scared. He was actually physically scared.

He was sat in the truck, ready for one of the last missions before the train and he was agitated, his leg bouncing fast and he could see Bucky staring at him, but he didn’t ask because he already knew that Jamie wouldn’t tell him. He’d asked when his nervous twitches started and he made it clear that this was something he couldn’t explain and couldn’t tell him. It didn’t change the future, it wouldn’t. Jamie was just saving him from the pain of knowing that something bad would happen. He wouldn’t be able to tell him without feeling the pain himself, but he knew that it’d be worse for this Bucky because he’d have to get on that train, aware that he’d fall and that was hard to bare, for both of them.

He was just-... trying to save him the pain of knowing that he’d fall and there was no way he could tell him that he became the Winter Soldier, that he was turned into a monster, brainwashed, dehumanized, weaponized and frozen over and over only to find out after he was freed that he killed so many people, innocent or otherwise, including Howard and his wife.

It would kill him inside. Jamie was trying to save him the pain and he would keep repeating it until he couldn’t anymore.

There’d been so many moments and times where he’d felt like he should just end it, but he couldn’t. He didn’t deserve the easy way out. He needed to make it up to the families and Steve. Steve would never forgive him for it. He had to push through it.

\--------------------

“He’s acting weird,” Steve said as he walked into the room, the big screen already switched on so Stark was on screen, still working on the Time Stone and taking notes. He looked tired and he assumed that that meant he may not have gotten much sleep. Although he appreciated it, he had half a mind to tell him to get some rest.

“Weird how?” Clint perked up from where he was sat at the kitchen table, food and coffee in front of him. The rest of the team was there, just lounging around. He didn’t blame them, there wasn’t anything they could do. It was all on Steve, Tony and the King. And all Steve was doing was explaining and describing what he could see through his past-self's eyes.

“He remembers what’s coming,” Steve said with a sad tone, his voice deep and grave. He knew that it would hurt him. And Steve would probably get the memories of that moment since he’d been getting everything else. He doubted that there’d be an exception and he was afraid that it would tip Cano- _Bucky_ over.

“That is?” Sam could his attention, drawing his gaze over. He was leaning against the wall beside the couch that Wanda was sitting in and he wasn’t sure if any of them bar for Stark, Clint and Natasha that knew about what happened, before Hydra, after they went to war as the Howling Commandos. They’d never asked and he’d never explained and he was sure that none of them read the Winter Soldier’s file apart from Clint, Nat and Stark.

“The train. The one he fell from,” his tone turned grimmer, grittier. Just thinking about it pulled at his heart and sent a cold shudder through him. It was such a horrible moment and it almost killed him. If Peggy hadn’t been there and the rest of the Commandos... “He’ll be watching himself fall again,” _from my perspective._ He left out of the sentence and glanced away and down.

“That’s… gonna really give him issues,” Clint said with a serious tone, his happy-go-lucky attitude completely gone. Steve could see that the Archer could already see the trauma that would come out of it and Steve could see the expression he had, the same expression he had when he was told about all the agents he’d killed during the Alien invasion with Loki after he came out of being brainwashed.

“There’s a possibility that that could re-trigger him,” the voice of Vision came over the coms, over the tv and Steve looked up to see him actually handling the stone, holding it without any fear or emotion on his face. It looked like he was analyzing it while Tony continued to write stuff down. It made him wonder what he’d actually learned so far because he seemed to be writing down a lot each time they were on the video call.

“Well, we’ll just have to find a way to get him back before that happens,” Tony commented, pausing in writing scribbles to look up at the stone and then through the camera at Steve. He was sure that he didn’t imagine the hope on his face. It was there and gone pretty fast, but he was very sure he saw it.

“Think you can do that? We don’t know how the stone works yet,” Steve replied with a forced tone. He didn’t feel like talking after getting the memories. He was just there to explain and then he’d head to the gym in Wakanda to take his emotion out on something. He was building up with fear for Canon… -Bucky and anticipation and it was getting to him. He wanted him back, to save him from seeing it all over again.

“Yet,” Stark replied pointedly, emphasizing that one word before going back to the rock. He watched as Vision set it down in the glass cube and it gave a little flash, catching everyone’s attention. It just glowed for a second. “Everyone saw that, right?” Tony spoke up again, his hands off of the table where he’d writing.

And sure enough, everyone was staring at the screen, watching the stone while it glowed again, and then again, an again. It started glowing faster, flashing on and off and it was almost like it was pulsating, like a heartbeat. It had a rhythm.

“What’s that mean?” Clint asked as he got up and strode over to where Steve was standing, staring wide-eyed at it. There were a few whispers and gasps when it started turning green, bright and still flashing. It changed?! Why?

\--------------------

The mission was over and they were covered in grime and dirt and blood and bruises for the umpteenth time, Canon and Dernier more so since they both went in with fists a-blazing instead of guns. He’d wanted to try it Jamie’s way, to show that he wasn’t the only tank of the group. It’d been a joke to start off, but it became real and they were fist-fighting their way into the base to take out who stood in their way. There was laughing and messing around, but they got the job done and he was staring at the flag being picked up and set into a box with the rest of them.

“We have intel that Arnim Zola, the Nazi Scientist in league with Johann Schmidt and Hydra is boarding a freight train,” as soon Jamie heard the works, his gut sank and turned to ice. He felt so cold and dead as he’d registered them and closed his eyes with a silence breath leaving his nose.

He was hurting and he hid it easily all through the meeting. He made sure of that and once the meeting was over, he stood from his seat with the rest of the Commandos, his exterior silence, posture as laid back as it’d been since he’d opened up to the group. His mind though… the walls were back up, trying to protect him from the emotion he knew would explode through the wall when they were inside that train when Jamie would see Bucky fall, regardless of trying to save him.

They left the room to go to their big tent, the group having one big one to themselves. They were heading across the field, Canon lagging behind to keep an eye out like he usually did.

“Can’t wait to have him in our interrogation room,” he heard Bucky say as an arm was slung across his shoulders, the man seeming so giddy and ready to get back out there and take down the bad guys. He knew it wouldn’t work, so he wasn’t going to bother talking him out of it.

“Think they’d let you have first crack at him? Or Steve?” he forced a smirk and eyed the other man standing with him, walking with him while the guys just burst out laughing way ahead of them.

“They’d better,” he felt a hand in his short hair, ruffling at it fondly and roughly, like Bucky usually did when they were together like this. Regardless of the fact that Bucky thought he was his son, they acted more like brothers now, always having a laugh, drinking together and helping each other out. They’d even wrestled a few times and still, Bucky made jokes about the relationship, made father-son jokes and teased him, saying that he’d ground his ass if he did something again. It was all fun and games and he enjoyed it. He’d miss it, that was for sure.

If it wasn’t the train that separated them, it’d either be Canon having to go back to his own time or Hydra taking Bucky. If Jamie was stuck in this timeline, he’d do everything he could to get him away from Hydra. He’d tear the place apart until he found the base where he was kept.

“What the hell?” Jamie was pulled from his thoughts when Bucky spoke and stopped walking, pulling him to a stop to with his arm still around his shoulders. He looked towards him, noticing the hard frown and the way he stared upwards at the darkening sky. Canon frowned, still staring at him and then hesitantly looked up with him, eyes widening and mouth dropping open slightly at the huge array of colours in the sky, like the Northern light, but… they were everywhere, flicking and wrapping around each other. They started twisting up and then gradually turned green, a dim shade until they got darker and gradually faded.

“What the hell,” Jamie repeated softly, a quiet mutter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think all that weird green stuff's about, yeah? ;) I want to hear theories.


	32. Chapter 32

Jamie wanted to throw up. He could feel the cold churning in his stomach threatening to rise and make him gag. He was staring down at the tracks, snow everywhere and he could feel his fear itching at his skin, wanting to break through, but he wasn’t letting it. The group was behind him, Dugan was keeping an eye out in another direction, Gabe and Morita were messing with the coms, or... Old-timey comms. Monty was keeping an eye on the tracks too, but with binoculars and Bucky and Steve were staring in the same direction, standing under the zip-line that would take them to the same level as the train so that they could land on it.

The thought just made him feel worse. Jamie glanced at his side, eyeing Bucky subtly and noting that they were talking about Coney Island and the Cyclone. He could remember Steve saying that he threw up clearly.

“This isn’t payback, is it?” he heard bucky reply and it drew a sliver of a smirk to Jamie’s face for a split second before it disappeared. He wasn’t emotionally ready for any of this, he really wasn’t. Physically, he more than likely was. He’d react based on instinct and instinct was his general drive. He just wasn’t ready to see Bucky fall. He wasn’t ready to see the look that Steve had on his face when it’d happened to _him._

“We were right. Doctor Zola’s on the train,” Gabe drew their attention, Jamie glancing over his shoulder at the men messing with the device, his expression unreadable since he was hiding his actual hatred of this mission. He and Morita were looking at them all before landing on Steve, directly instructing the Captain. “Hydra dispatch gave him permission to open up the throttle. Whenever he’s goin’, they must need him bad,” he was escaping to another base, a bigger, stronger one maybe. That was his thought when he was at Bucky’s place. He remembered thinking that they wanted their top scientist protected.

“Well, let’s get moving because they’re moving like the devil,” Jamie glanced back to where he’d been looking before, seeing the snake of the train moving fast around the corner, another corner away from where they were. They had to move now and the cold feeling grew stronger as he thought about it. Canon took a deep breath.

“We only got about a ten-second window. You miss that window, we’re bugs on a windshield,” Jamie turned to see everyone lining up, Bucky right behind Steve. He took another breath and forced his walls up, trained to be able to adjust. He was emotionless he repeatedly told himself. He was strong and he had to think about the mission right now. The mission was the priority. He’d worry about bucky when they reached that train cart.

“Mind the gap,” Monty commented as the ones that were boarding got inline, Dugan placing Jamie right behind Bucky. He stayed close, watching over the man’s shoulder and giving him a comforting protective squeeze, watching him glance back and give him a reassuring smirk.

“Better get moving, Boss,” Dugan called and not a second later, Steve shot down the zip-line, Bucky straight after and Jamie next, feeling the freezing wind hit him like a gust from a mountain peak. They were smooth and he felt nothing of the cold as they continued falling, the train gradually appearing under them as they fell and fell. The engine of the thing was so loud that they could hear it over the wind rushing past their ears and he saw Steve and Bucky drop on top of it, immediately dropping to a crouch to stay on it and Jamie did the same, Gabe following suit.

They carefully skulked along the top, Bucky taking a glance behind to make sure he was there and then continuing. They easily reached passed the middle cart, closer to the head of the train. He saw where Steve and Bucky started climbing down to where the door was and Jamie followed, remembering the plan easily since he’d gone over the plan so many times when he was in Bucky’s place and having done the same this time.

He climbed down and into the train, aware that Gabe was staying above as lookout. Jamie closed the door behind him, his old machine gun in hand, he had knives littering his suit, hidden the leather and easily reachable for him. He was better at close range fights, hand to hand since the arm was a great weapon for that kind of combat. He’d thought that maybe it’d be great against the robot suit that blew a hole in the side of the train the first time.

Jamie followed behind Bucky, keeping a close eye on him and ahead, Steve skulking on the other side of the big weapons rack. They headed towards the door, Steve passing through it with Bucky lagging behind and Jamie behind him and that was when he had a flash of memory. His eyes shot wide open.

“Steve, wait-,” the Captain shot around and passed the threshold, the door slamming shut, both of them and they were now on separate carts, Steve along in the other. “Shit,” he snapped, slinging the gun over his shoulder with the strap keeping it there. He pulled his metal fist back, thrusting it forward and managing to dent it a little. He’d been about to do it again when he heard Bucky curse and start shooting. Jamie swiftly turned around and grabbed his machine gun, starting to shoot alongside Bucky.

Bullets were flying and they were hidden behind ammo crates across from each other, Hydra agents on the other side of the cart and shooting rapidly. Every now and again, they’d peek out and shoot as well, catching the agents and watching them fall just as fast as the bullets flew.

A few seconds later and he saw that Bucky was out of bullets in both guns and he reached behind him, grabbing his pistol. He whistled through his teeth, catching the man’s attention and tossed the gun over, dropping his own since it was out of ammo as well. He took a breath and then shot up from his spot, his metal fist being pulled back and then forward to hit a crate on the rack, the thing sliding straight across. The last guy shot out of the way of the crate and Bucky got his shot in, taking the guy out and watching him fall.

They panted lightly, Bucky more so as they carefully came out of hiding, Jamie having ducked behind a big crate after forcing the other to slide. They took a breath and he turned to Bucky as he strode over, eyeing across the cart to make sure no one else was there.

“I had ‘em on the ropes,” Bucky then commented dryly, glancing at him with a lazy smirk. Jamie returned it and they both snapped to attention, Bucky with his gun and Jamie with his arm when the door whooshed open behind them, Steve standing there, panting softly as he stepped through into their cart.

“You two okay?” the Captain asked, glancing at them as they relaxed, posture easing up and they both nodded, Bucky turning to look at the bodies behind them on the floor. There was a short shared laugh and Bucky looked up at Steve’s smile. He saw a glint of blue over the man’s shoulder through the dull greys of the cart doors and his eyes shot wide open, heart-stopping and then skipping wildly.

“Look out!” he yelled, Grabbing Steve’s shield from his arm and jumping forward to cover the two, hearing a split second of his name being yelled before the big robot machine suit shot. The impact was hard and sent them all flying, the shield redirecting the blast towards the side of the train and blasting a hole in it. Jamie felt his back hit the centre rack, a loud grunt leaving him and the shield skidding away to his right.

There was a moment of aching and blurring in his head and he blinked rapidly to see Bucky reaching for the shield and his heart froze over, his expression turning to shock and fear when he lifted it and started shooting, the machine suit turning to aim at Bucky with Zola shouting _‘shoot him’_ over the speakers.

“No!” he shouted just as the suit shot and it was like he was watching the scene in slow motion. The blasting flying, hitting the shield, the shield flying back inside towards Steve who immediately grabbed it and he watched as Bucky was hit out of the train, slamming into the part that was hanging off of the train.

Jamie shot to his feet and ran over, looking out and seeing Bucky holding onto a metal bar on the outside of the train. He instantly grabbed onto the train and started inching out, keeping his sharp eyes on the man. He was all instinct like he said he’d be. He didn’t think. He was climbing out, inching towards Bucky with his metal arm reaching out the closer he got.

“Dad!” he called without really thinking, the cold rushing past them and Bucky was inching closer on the broken bar, he could see it starting to bend with the weight and he just kept trying. Fear was rushing through him, burning and freezing him and pushing him. He was petrified. He had to get him, had to save him!

He snapped his head around when he felt a hard grip on his other wrist, Steve there, looking determined and scared at the same time. He was given a nod and Jamie registered what he was thinking because he immediately thought the same thing.

Jamie could get further out to reach him, and he did. He inched out faster and could grab him, wrapping his metal hand around Bucky’s flesh one and they were holding onto each other for dear life, the grip so tight that Jamie could feel it in the metal. He held on without Jamie breaking any bones and started pulling him in, Steve pulling the Soldier in and eventually, they all dropped in a three man pile on the train floor, all of them still holding onto each other with Bucky gripping tight to both of them.

They were all panting hard, all having been scared and afraid that they’d nearly lost Bucky-.

Jamie’s eyes snapped wide open again and then frowned. This didn’t-... happen. He didn’t fall? He shot up to his knees, kneeling there and then grabbed the back of Bucky’s neck, in turn, getting his attention and he stared hard at him, eyeing him over like he was making sure he was actually there.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Jamie,” he felt Bucky’s arms wrap around his neck and back, holding onto him tight with a hand up in his hair, entangling in the short strands. He could feel the cold coming off of him, slowly warming up with the embrace and Jamie held him back, Steve getting up to take a deep breath and run his hands over his face. He must’ve nearly had a heart attack. But… How didn’t he fall? Bucky was meant to fall and the big guy was down, so how was he meant to fall from the train?

“How are you here,” he muttered deeply into Bucky shoulder, his breathing catching and his eyes stinging in the corners. His heart was beating so damn fast and he was so confused, he didn’t know what to do or how to process any of this.

“‘Cause you’re an idiot and decided to climb the side of a train to save me,” Bucky’s voice was spent, shaken and everything wasn’t registering. Hearing him, his voice, hearing him speak after the point where he’d already fallen scared him and he held him back tight, burying his face in the man’s shoulder and he couldn’t help the choke of a sob at being able to actually feel him there.

“Hey hey, don’t cry. I’m here,” Bucky said, a little muffled since his face was buried in Jamie’s shoulder as well. Their hold was so tight on each other he was surprised they could breathe.

“That was a scare,” he heard Steve in the background and Jamie sniffed and tried to hold off the sobs, trying to concentrate and focus so that he could stop himself. That terrified him. He wished he still had long hair so that he could hide his face behind the curtains of dark brown hair, but he didn’t, so he had to hide his face in his _father’s_ shoulder for a minute until he was calm enough.

“Don’t you talk about being scared, I was the one that almost pissed my pants,” he felt Bucky lift his head to look over at Steve and he just kept his face there, waiting a moment longer before taking a breath and swallowing. He pulled his head back and relaxed his grip, staring at Bucky and seeing him turn back towards him, looking him over. “You okay?”

“I should be askin’ you that,” Jamie put on a frown to cover his emotion and dropped his forehead gracelessly against the man’s shoulder before getting to his feet and dragging Bucky with him. And then Steve as he walked Bucky over to him and pulled him to his feet.

He said nothing as Bucky and Steve shared their concerns with each other and he could still feel his heart hammering in his chest, beating fast and uneven from the scare. He was still so scared. Jamie felt his head lighten and blur before he faltered on his feet and then dropped to his knees. He heard a yell of his name and multiple footsteps before hitting the floor and blacking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legit teared up when I had to rewatch the fall to be able to write this up.
> 
> ....I fixed it. Didn't die, fuck you movie.


	33. Chapter 33

Steve sat there on his bed, head resting in his hands with his elbows on his knees as he stared at nothing, all focus now on the memory he’d recently had during his sleep. He’d shot awake, no warning and registered what he’d seen, what’d happened and he was in tears, his eyes letting the water leak and stream down his face.

Canon saved him, Bucky saved Bucky from the fall and he felt the heat of relief build inside him, that he didn’t have to see it again, that Jamie didn’t have to see the fall from Steve’s point of view. They were saved from the pain.

But he wasn’t sure what would happen now. He thought that time was stuck there, that that was a pinnacle point and it was set and couldn’t be changed. But it was and Jamie was the one that changed it. He didn’t understand it anymore. He wasn’t sure what was meant to happen. What they did, it should’ve changed so much, it _would_ change so much.

He was worried, not just about the timeline, but about _his_ Bucky too. He’d dropped right after they saved Bucky and he was just lying there. He remembered taking him back to the main base and letting him sleep in the med wing. The doctor said that it was just exhaustion like he’d physically overworked himself on no sleep for a few days. There was more detail and they figured out that Jamie hadn’t slept in over two weeks. He was running on fume for that train mission. He’d been worried and clearly, Canon had gotten no sleep, having anticipated that Bucky would fall. Fear drove him through lack of sleep. It scared Steve.

Steve tried taking a breath to calm his nerves and reached for his book sized pad beside the table, picking it up and holding it out in front of him. He pressed a few buttons and watched as the ringer started blinking on screen, A few waiting dots going back and forth under the image on the centre. He waited and waited and then it flashed, the dark scene opening up into Stark’s lab where he was sat in front of the stone and was still writing things down. There was more dust on his desk, a few odd things here and there like he’d been testing it again.

“Rogers?” the man glanced up from what he was writing and set his pen down, watching him. He saw a frown pass by his face. “Guessing that the train happened? You look like shit,” there was a moment of silence and Steve ran a hand through his bed-hair.

“The train happened. Bucky didn’t fall,” he answered calmly, or as calmly as he could as he stared into the cam and watch Tony stare with no reaction for a few long, stretched out seconds. It was like he was thinking. The man blinked at him a few times before shaking his head and staring back through the call.

“Wait, what? That’s not possible,” he didn’t believe him and he didn’t blame him. He didn’t believe it himself until he went over the memory again and again. He couldn’t actually see what his old memory of that moment was. He remembered it the way Canon made it, saving himself and Steve holding onto Jamie while he dragged Bucky back inside the train. _He really needed to stop seeing Bucky as Bucky and see him as Jamie ad Canon because he was getting confused with there being two Bucky’s in the past._

“Bucky and Steve saved him. He was pulled back onto the train, they got Zola and they got outta there,” he explained further, watching Tony’s face change into one of deep thought and he shifted in his chair, grabbing another clipboard with more writing on it, Steve’s board, as Stark called it. He wrote down the things that seemed significant.

“I don’t understand this and I hate stuff I don’t understand,” he heard the man mutter to himself as he wrote a lot and then set it down. “Was there anything weird besides the train?” like any indication that something would be different? Steve wasn’t really sure. There hadn’t been much difference and he couldn’t really remember the memories before they were altered.

“Not much I don’t think. Nothing odd happened either,” odd. Steve frowned and bit his lip. Nothing really odd happened except what Bucky had been ranting about. When the sky had that weird colour effect and it all turned gree-. “Wait, the Time Stone turned Green, right?”

“Yeah, it was a pretty intense moment,” Tony answered flatly, his expression obvious along with his attitude. Steve internally rolled his eyes at that.

“Bucky was giddy and told me in great detail about when their sky was all colourful and then turned green,” at that, Tony’s eyes widened and he started writing stuff down, alternating between both notepads. There was a long moment of silence while he noted stuff down and then paused to read through it.

“I could be wrong, but the stone turning green may have affected the past where Terminator is. Maybe it allowed him to save his past-self,” the way he said it sounded like Tony was grasping at straws, but he was actually thinking about it. He could see it on his face that he was genuinely considering it to be a possibility. Honestly, it was the only thing they had right now. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the stone turned green when Bucky said the sky did.

“But why? And how could it have been triggered?” Steve asked with a questioning quirk in his brow.

“We’re unsure, Captain. The Infinity Gems work in mysterious ways,” Vision’s voice came over as he appeared on the side of the screen, papers and pen in hand. He must’ve been doing an all-nighter like Tony too.

\--------------------

As soon as he began stirring, his senses sharpened and he took in what he could of wherever he was. His mind was still blurry, but as if he had gotten a good night of sleep. The effects of the morning after being grogginess and that he was overly relaxed. He shouldn’t be. He should be with Steve, to see how he was doing after-

Jamie snapped up into a sitting position.

“AAAGH!” the woman walking past dropped her tray, a mess immediately hitting the floor after she freaked out. Jamie stared wide-eyed at her, his heart hammering in his chest. Bucky didn’t fall! They saved him. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” the woman drew him back from his memories and he threw the blankets off to get up, wavering as he stood but overcame it quickly to walk over and help her pick the stuff up.

“No, this was my fault. I’m sorry,” he said flatly and started putting the breakfast on the tray. It was cooked and this seemed to be a single room back at base, so he assumed that it was for him.

“No, it’s fi-,” as she cut off, he looked up, watching her and saw that she was staring. He frowned and followed her gaze to his chest, his bare chest where the metal arm met his chest. He felt cold again and abruptly stood and stepped away, looking around for anything that could cover his arm up. He saw one of his warn, long-sleeved shirts. He grabbed it and slipped it on, avoiding the woman’s gaze.

“Jamie?” at hearing his name, he snapped his gaze up to the door, staring at Bucky who was standing there, looking worried. He strode into the room and dragged him close to pull him into a hug. There was a long moment of warmth, the woman taking that time to leave with the tray again. “Don’t faint like that again. Nearly gave me a heart attack,” the arms tightened for a second and the man pulled back again, hands now on his shoulders and just resting there.

“Sorry, don’t know what happened,” his voice softened, quiet, deep and gritty. He was still pretty groggy, not as tired though, so that meant that he had a decent amount of hours of sleep. He didn’t feel as well rested as he could have though.

“I do. Doc said it was exhaustion built up over a few weeks,” that… didn’t surprise him. Jamie hadn’t slept. He’d get an hour or two at most and two hours were rare. His body clock had counted and he had between an hour and two every other night. “Wanna tell me something? I sorta guessed it was what’s been eatin’ at you,” It didn’t surprise him that Bucky took the time to even think about it either.

“Look, just…” he started slowly, his tone still soft. He may as well give him an idea of what happened since they were passed it. It wouldn’t hurt now that they were in the base. It was the safest place they could be at that point. “Something was meant to happen, but it didn’t. I was worrying about it,”

“No kiddin’. You’ve been on edge for weeks,” Bucky pointed out, dropping his hands from his shoulders and directing him back towards the bed, but he paused. “Wait-... something didn’t happen?” they stood there for a moment and Jamie watched him, seeing the confused frown crease his brow line.

“It happened before and it was a pretty serious moment. It didn’t happen and I don’t understand why,” he shook his head and climbed up onto the bed, legs crossed with his elbows resting on his bent knees. Bucky started moving and dropped gracelessly in his seat, staring at Jamie while he seemed to think.

“Would there be a way to find out in this time?” Bucky pointed at the floor and leaned back in his chair. Jamie couldn’t see a way that they could. The Stone wasn’t in 1945, it was in 2017 last he checked. He’d have it with him if it was sent through time with him. He’d probably be back in his own time too. He wasn’t sure.

“Not that I can see. Not unless you have the Time Stone and a way to find out how it works or if this is even related to the Ston, to begin with,” it was related, it had to be. The Time set was changed and Bucky was saved and nothing had changed yet. It had to have some relation to it and he was actually scared about finding out what must’ve changed in the future. Why hadn’t Jamie disappeared yet though? He would’ve thought that if he’s saved Bucky, he’d have disappeared or at least faded. There wasn’t any way that Bucky would be in the future in that time unless he’d gone with Steve when the place went dow-.

“Whoa, hey, what’s that look for?” Bucky drew him from his instant shock and Jamie stared at him with wide eyes. Is that what would happen now? There was no way that Bucky would let Steve get on that plane alone. He knew for a fact that once he decided to do something that stupid, Bucky would be at his side, planning to help him in the stupidity.

“Just-... remembering stuff,” he stared at the man sitting in front of him, worry and concern on his face. Jamie swallowed thickly and tried taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. “I-... I need to follow Steve,” he said as he climbed over to the edge of the bed and sat there, his face really close to Bucky’s. “You _need_ to follow him, all the way. ‘Till the end of the line,”

Bucky stared back, the frown growing harder in confusion. It looked like he was about to say something, but his mouth only closed and opened and then closed again before he just stopped and nodded.

“Til the end of the line,” he replied, the frown easing up and Jamie felt a warm relief hit his chest.

“Til the end of the line,” Jamie hadn’t disappeared yet because he wouldn’t. He was still this Bucky.

\----------

Canon was redressed in something casual for the military, dark green cargo-pants, boots that the pants were tucked into and he was simply wearing the brown-ish green long sleeve that he’d been wearing back in the infirmary, though the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He was fine with anyone seeing the arm at this point, it was just the shoulder and where the metal met skin that he was against anyone seeing. He felt less stressed out now that he wasn’t in there, but he was still edgy and sharp with his senses. He was still mildly groggy too.

“Maybe we shoulda stayed there a little longer so you could get some sleep,” Bucky said as they strode down the hallway that led to the lounge room where the team was waiting on them. Apparently, they didn’t want to disturb him if he was asleep and although it was considerate, he’d have rathered the company over seeing the woman stare at him, at his arm.

“No. I’m not staying there longer than I have to,” he let a tired smile tug at his lips and he heard a loud laugh leave Bucky, the man’s arm being slung around his shoulders for the umpteenth time since Jamie ran into Bucky.

“You hate hospitals too, huh?” he said with a chuckle in his voice. He was grinning, seeming back to normal. He was glad that the train incident didn’t have much of an effect on Bucky. Jamie couldn’t feel anything. He knew how he’d felt during it because Jamie felt it as a memory, but there was nothing that showed him that Bucky had any kind of post-stress or trauma.

A few minutes of them just walking and they rounded the corner, heading towards the double doors that led into their rec-room. Bucky held the door open and his heart, and he physically, jumped when there were loud cheers erupting as soon as they saw him walk in.

“Tank, Canon,” a few of them yelled and called. He looked around the room, glancing at everyone. Even Phillips, Howard and Peggy were there. He was momentarily confused and looked over his shoulder at Bucky, who only shrugged and grinned further. The man knew that he was walking into a surprise gathering.

“Jamie, welcome back,” Steve stepped forward, arms held out wide before he was pulled into a hug. Jamie was hesitant for a moment hugging back, taking a subtle glance over at his side where Bucky was still grinning and watching him with warm eyes.

“Good to be back,” he replied, taking his gaze off of his _father_ for a moment so that his focus was on the Captain while he hugged him. A long, stretched out second later and he pulled back, smiling widely at him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, so much emotion crossing his face and Jamie let a smile of his own spread over his lips. He appreciated the thank you, but he didn’t see why he was getting one when Steve helped save Bucky too.

“No need to thank me, Captain,” Jamie watched him closely and was then dragged into another hug by the bigger man, the hold tighter and warmer and he held him back, patting his shoulder-blade a few times.

“There’s every need to thank you,” there was a long moment of silence from them both, chatter going on in the background and the conversation of celebrating with drinks before the next mission since it was meant to be the big one. Steve then pulled back and stared at him, seeming thoughtful before sighing with a smile. “And-... can I talk to you later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jamie replied with a straight face, only quirking a brow lightly when Steve turned around to rejoin the group with whatever they were laughing about. He turned his gaze back to Bucky, the man seeming to take that as an invitation to step back to his side with his trademark grin.

“He heard you call me _Dad,”_ Jamie’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at the other soldier and Bucky huffed, running a hand through his hair before continuing. “He asked me to, but I said we’d explain when you’re outta bed and back with us,”

“How are we meant to explain this,” Jamie asked simply, feeling a light stab in his chest. He reached a hand up and rubbed his fingers over the area, feeling it again, but thought nothing of it.

“Why’re you two over there? C’mon, drinks are on the Colonel!” Morita shouted over the groups laughing as they started exiting the room. Bucky and Jamie shared a look of bemusement before they joined the group, Jamie still feeling the stabbing ache in his chest.

\--------------------

“So, you think that the stone screwed up the past and that was how Buck saved Buck?” Clint asked after both Steve and Tony brought it to the group's attention. They all seemed to think that that could be why Canon could save him. Steve thought the same and Tony. Even the King assumed the same. It was the only real explanation as to how it could’ve happened.

“Yeah, I mean. What else could it be?” Steve asked rhetorically with a shoulder shrug. No one seemed to have any other theories, nor did they seem to have any input for the situation and it just made it look like it was the only theory and that it seemed more possible than anything else. It just sort of confirmed it.


	34. Chapter 34

Jamie knew that this was probably a bad idea, one of the worst he’d had, but he wanted to see him again, wanted to hurt him, maybe break him and he knew that he’d have to go through Phillips to do it. That was why he was standing outside of the interrogation room, waiting for the Colonel to show up.

And sure enough, it hadn’t taken him long. He’d been trying to get information out of the mad scientist since they dragged him into one of these rooms and apparently, they hadn’t gotten much out of him.

“Soldier?” the man strode closer, fast and like he was marching on a mission. Jamie stepped his heels closer and gave him a lazy salute before taking a few steps towards him. “What’re you doin’ here?” the man asked, his stride slowing down once they got closer.

“I thought I could help,” he replied simply, seeing the Colonel’s brow raise at him in a few seconds of thought. He probably didn’t believe him or was just highly sceptical.

“Help how? You’re a soldier,” the man said curtly and with a flat tone. Jamie knew for a fact that he could get anything out of Zola with no real effort, but he already knew the planning on Schmidt’s part. He was there so that he could make it seem like he tortured him for the information. He just needed to make him look beat up.

“You forget, I’m also a Specialist, well versed in the art of torture,” he could make it easily look like he tortured the information out of him and yes, he was definitely going to enjoy this. He had it coming. “I can get anything out of him,” he finally wanted to get some kind of closure and that would be in the form of a tortured Zola.

“That right? What did you do as a Specialist before?” the Colonel asked, arms crossing over his chest with an expectant stare on his face. Jamie technically wouldn’t be lying to him when he said that torture was his forte. It was what he did beside kill and spar when he was unfrozen.

“A lot that I’m not proud of and none of it was for good reason. But this-. This is for good reason,” the soldier gestured to the door that Zola was behind, his eyes still firmly set on Phillips. He could see that the man was really thinking about it and he knew that he thought that actual physical violence as torture was wrong. He had morals and Jamie could easily see that he was maybe a little conflicted over this.

“How much d’you think you can get outta him?” he was still considering it and that was a plus for Jamie. There was more of a chance he’d let him do this, but he wouldn’t push him. He could change his mind at any given point.

“Everything, with the right incentive,” just that sentence seemed to sway him. He was watching him carefully and with the promise of every step of the plan, ever danger that would be involved, every extra measure could be placed against Hydra’s traps. It was the best sentence Jamie could’ve come out with.

There was a lingering moment of silence before Phillips reached into his pocket with a huff and held out the key to the door, to which Jamie reached for and then held in his own hand. He glanced at it and then at the Colonel.

“You have the key, no one’s in the other room. No one’s watching,” he mentioned before turning away and taking a few steps.

“I’ll inform you when I’m done,” he called after him, watching him wave over his shoulder.

“Just-... don’t kill him,” he called back and then rounded the corner, leaving Jamie there with the key in hand. There was complete silence in the hallway, no one there to see him turn towards the door and stick the key in the lock.

“No promises,” the soldier muttered under his breath and he turned the key, hearing the locks click inside and then release. He took a breath, calming himself before pushing the door open and stepping him, hearing his boots thud deeply on the floor. He glanced around and then turned to the person in the room, staring at his back as Zola stared into the glass. No one was on the other side, Phillips said that and he knew because he’d checked beforehand.

Jamie watched him and closed the door, locking it from the inside. He tucked the key deep into his pocket, not taking his eyes from the Scientists as he stepped further into the room. He knew that Zola could see him in the mirror, watching him in return and there was a smile on his face. Jamie couldn’t wait to wipe it off and shock him with what he could tell him. He’d keep the dangerous information to himself and only give him hints.

“Sergeant Barnes, welcome,” Zola smiled and turned around on the spot to greet him. He stayed put for a few seconds before taking a few steps towards the table in the centre of the room and Jamie stayed where he was, keeping his metal arm hidden behind his body.

“I’m not the Sergeant,” he replied emotionlessly, easily hiding his rage that was boiling in his gut, the giddy anticipation that he was about to cause pain to this waste of a human. “I’m related to him though,” he added, pocketing his free hand in his jacket pocket to make a show of his calm, relaxed exterior.

He could see the twitch of a frown on the man’s face, his eyes grazing him and boring into him as if he were trying to remember. It was when his eyes widened just a tad in a realization that Jamie turned enough to show the metal of his left forearm and hand. He seemed surprised for a moment and the carefully composed himself and Jamie watched.

“You cut your hair, why? Long hair suited you,” the soldier said nothing to that, only standing there with a solid posture and walls high as he simply calculated him and searched him for his twitches. “Tell me, how is that you have that arm? It’s a masterpiece,” Canon paused for a moment, still watching him.

“Mad Scientist gave it to me,” he answered curtly, no emotion in his expression or in his tone. He was guarded. He wasn’t stupid. Jamie knew that the man was smart and would try to use his own words or thoughts against him. He had the advantage of being aware of this and would know when he tried. That way, he could reverse it and make sure that it backfired on Zola if he were to attempt it.

“How did you lose your real one?” He didn't seem all that interested in the reasoning behind how he lost his arm, instead, his gaze was firmly set on the metal that was his limb like a moth to a flame. There was no sensitivity to his tone, only pure fascination.

“An accident while I was serving my country,” Jamie didn't go into detail of the accident, making sure to keep information to himself. Also, he didn't feel the need to go into unnecessary memory when the incident was already changed. Technically the accident didn’t actually happen and Bucky never fell from the train. Jamie made sure of that. He still didn't understand how it was actually possible, but regardless Bucky was safe and that was all he really cared about.

“Have you used it to hurt people?” Again, the scientist seemed intrigued and interested in his answer to this particular question. Jamie had actually thought of the answers to the questions he assumed Zola would ask and he'd considered him asking that question. He actually had a good answer for this one, but he had to separate his feelings from it because he knew he’d probably end up across the table with his hand around Zola’s throat if he felt the darkness he previously felt when he remembered all the faces, the names of the ones he’d killed with the arm.

He let his exterior darken as he stared at the man in question, his eyes boring directly into him. He barely blinked, no waver or falter as his eyes sharpened with the darkness he felt before, only he separated the feeling and kept the expression. He just seemed to look angry, but held himself back, or appeared to be for show. 

“I’ve killed people with it… violently. I shattered someone’s skull, choked another until I felt their neck snap from the grip,” Jamie saw the faint twitch in his face, easily catching the way his eyes faltered while trying to keep their gazes locked. There were signs of a nervous squirming, so the sentence affected him. There was even a slight hitch in his breathing. 

He refrained from thinking of Tony's parents while saying this sentence and easily kept himself from imagining the horrific scene in his own head. He can't remember when, but he’d learnt this a while ago while staying in the apartment before Steve showed up.

“You have no qualms with torture,” Zola’s tone wavered and Jamie took pride in seeing how he couldn't even keep a straight sentence without showing the effect his own sentence had on the man. He saw him swallow thickly and then clear his throat to try and calm himself and that only confirmed Jamie's theory that the man was scared and was trying his best to hide it. It drew a smirk to his face and he used that smirk to emphasise his next words, to invoke more fear and to see him squirm from it. Jamie wanted to inflict pain, to make it last before he killed him, but he knew that Zola was needed alive and Jamie could only do so much before he crossed the line and he didn’t plan to cross it.

Jamie’s dark smirk was solidly curved into his lips as he stared directly at the scientist, watching as it seemed to surprise the man who then took a step back as Jamie took one forward around the table. 

“Torture’s my forte. It’s one of the things I’m best at. It’s why I’m here. Because Phillips wants answers and he thinks the easiest way to get them is by using me,” his posture was casual as if he wasn't actually there to hurt him, but they both knew that there would be pain inflicted. Zola continuously stepped back as Jamie took a step forward, which made the smirk grow more amused as it was dark. “I know where to inflict pain without blood-loss. I know where I can cut-,” He swiftly reached behind him and pulled his small hunting knife from his back pocket, spinning it expertly in his grip like it was a butterfly knife. “-and you won’t die from it. I know how to break a man ten times stronger than you with barely any effort,” he glanced from the scientists to the knife and then back again, the smirk still on his face.

“You won’t break me,” Zola’s tone contradicted his sentence completely, the fear lacing his words so thickly that Jamie could pick it up without any effort. And that was where his expression turned malicious, a dark glint in his eye.  _ This was where the fun started. _

“I don’t need to. I just need to make it look like I did,” he took another step towards the scientist, watching as he took a step back and his back connected with the wall, drawing a slight gasp from his throat. He was clearly scared as he registered his words, and it only drew more dark amusement for Jamie. He loved seeing the pure fear on this man’s face. He deserved so much more.

“What?” His voice cracked and Jamie watched him, his smirk turning so much darker to the point that Zola would think that he loved torturing others and that was what he was hoping for. He wanted to scare him completely, he wanted him to have nightmares of Jamie. He wanted his nights sleepless like the nights Jamie had after he escaped Hydra.

“I already know what Schmidt’s planning, what you’re hiding and how to stop it. It’s just a matter of time. And wasting time with  _ you,” _ He twirled his knife around again, giving him a good idea of what he was about to do and watching as the scientist almost whimpered against the wall.

“Who are you?” His voice wavered completely. Was it wrong that he felt extremely giddy at watching the scientist quiver and shake ahead of him? If it were anyone else that had no relation to Hydra then maybe.

“Your worst nightmare, in a literal sense,” Because the scientist's nightmare had to be their own creation turning against them, Zola’s more so since his creation was an actual weapon that could take down anyone standing in his way. He created a monster and that monster turned on him. This was like Christmas to Jamie. He was getting his own back, revenge, closure.

_ Call it whatever you want. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if there were mistakes in this chapter. I decided to experiment with the vocal writing, using my mic and because I'm Welsh my accent is thick and a few words may not have picked up or changed a word. I tried to correct as much as I could see. There shouldn't be many though. The mistakes were really rare. You may have found one or two though.


	35. Chapter 35

Jamie was standing off to the side of a Colonel, waiting on everyone to fill in and take their seats. A lot of people barging past just to find a place to stand so that they could see the plan-board ahead of them. Phillips had called for an emergency meeting soon after Jamie had given him the information that he _apparently_ gained from torturing Zola. He hadn’t actually beat him up too bad, though his face did seem... _dismantled._ As well as a few bruises, cuts, gashes, deep wounds littering most of his body. Jamie hadn’t really limited himself to any part of the man. He'd used most of the stage, as it were.

He glanced around the room, noting that it started to become crowded and that was about the time the Howling Commandos appeared, filing in and directly heading towards the plan-table where Captain America was sitting at the top. _Guess even the Commandos were invited to the party._

The Soldier saw that he gained a few looks from the group, eyeing him oddly since he was standing beside the Colonel at the plan-board. No one ever stood there, so he wasn’t surprised by the glances.

Jamie explained everything that he could to the Colonel as well as Howard, who’d been in there at the time. He'd been called in by Phillips as soon as he gained only the slightest bit of information from the soldier about what Schmidt was planning. He’d thought that having him in there to hear what he said would help and it did. The man listened from a scientist's point of view and as soon as he started giving the information, the man explained it in simpler terms to the Colonel, who then called for the meeting.

And this is where it led them. To a room filled with soldiers and scientists and those who worked under them all, gathered together in a room to hear what had been said and to plan ahead for what was going to happen. The Colonel and Howard both agreed that Jamie should have some say or a place to explain what had been said to the rest of the team. He had a voice in this meeting and he was expected to use it.

“Johann Schmidt belongs in a madhouse. He thinks he’s a god and he’s willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the USA,” Phillips explained as he drew a line on the board and then turned to stare at the gathering in the room, everyone staying silent as they expected more. He saw the Commandos look at each other, and he assumed that they all had a debrief form like the rest of them about what would happen if they didn’t stop it. The Colonel really wasn’t that subtle.

“Schmidt’s working with powers beyond our capabilities,” Howard said as he took the seat beside Steve, his arms crossed over the wooden table. “He gets across the Atlantic, he’ll wipe out the entire Eastern seaboard in an hour,” if that. From Jamie’s own calculations, it probably wouldn’t even be that long and he assumed that maybe Howard had considered it.

“How much time we got,” Gabe spoke up with a lack of emotion in his tone. He seemed to take it in faster than the others, Bucky and Steve excluded. They seemed to have already worked it out and didn’t really react, just looking like they were in thought about the situation.

“According to my new best friend here?” the Colonel gestured to Jamie, eyeing him expectantly and he didn’t want to disappoint with no answer.

“24 hours,” he answered curtly, glancing between the crowd and seeing the questioning expression on Bucky’s face, probably as to why he knew that or why he was up there with the boss and basically standing where Steve should be. Though he knew that Steve wouldn’t lower himself to torture like Jamie easily could. He had the skills, he’d use them.

“Where’s Schmidt now?” someone in the back asked swiftly and he took a quick glance at the Colonel to see him nod in cue towards him as he lifted an image.

“Hydra’s last base is here in the Alps, 500 feet below the surface,” Jamie explained and pointed a metal finger up to the board, tapping at the spot with the finger and then turning back to look at the group. “There’s no real way to actually get in unless you feel like scaling a straight mountain to enter through an airstrip where most of his army will be. There’s no chance of getting through that many men, even with our Captain and me,”

“How d’you know where it is?” someone else in the back asked and Jamie could already preemptively feel the disappointing stares before he saw them. He knew that bucky would definitely not be pleased, but he had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t actually his father so it shouldn’t affect him.

“Can thank our Tank for that. Not only is he a damn good soldier, he’s an expert in torture. Got it outta Zola in record time,” Phillips immediately credited him and Jamie turned his gaze on him, though he said nothing to deny it. And he could feel them, the eyes on him that he’d wanted to avoid. He wished that he’d mentioned to the Colonel about keeping it between them.

“Torture?” at hearing Steve's voice and tone, Jamie took a quick glance towards him before glancing down, his own mild shame building up in his chest at the fact that he already knew that Steve didn’t approve, nor Bucky. He could feel the eyes boring into him and could feel the disappointment and shock and surprise. They hadn’t expected this of him. It wasn’t really the fact that Bucky and Steve were disappointed in him, it really wasn’t. It was because of himself. He’d hoped that he wouldn’t do anything like that in this timeline and he’d let his own feelings get the better of him and went ahead and really took it out on the Scientist.

“I’m not proud of the skill, but it was necessary,” Jamie forced himself the glance up at the crew around the table, watching them with no emotion in his face and he’d tried hard to keep it out of his own tone as well, being successful in the endeavour. It didn’t stop him from feeling faintly cold at seeing the not so happy looks on their faces, but he forced all feeling to the back of his mind. He was a soldier, he wasn’t trying to please anyone.

“If he didn’t, we wouldn’t have gotten the information out of Zola in time,” Howard perked up at that moment, saving him from the disappointed eyes of the Howling commando Captain and Sergeant. He was thankful for that and it seemed like Howard was aware that Jamie had felt off, standing up there and having those kinds of eyes on him.

“He has a point,” Dugan pointed out with a simple shrug and that seemed to justify Jamie as the rest of the Commandos just took it. It still didn't stop Bucky and Steve from staring at him like he was something distant or that he was a disappointing child or anything and he knew he’d heard about this later.

“So what’re we supposed to do? It’s not like we can knock on the front door,” Morita started, taking all thoughts and eyes away from Jamie and he couldn't be more thankful. He let out a silent sigh of relief and took a deep breath before drawing his mind back to the table where they seem to start planning. Though by the look on Steve's face that was probably going to be the plan anyway, besides the fact that Jamie knew that he would try knocking first. That was how they infiltrated the base.

“Why not?” Steve glanced around the table, Jamie included, and then picked up the piece of paper with the image of the base on it. “That’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” Back at the Smithsonian's, he read about how Steve had immediately given them the idea, but he hadn't really believed it until now because he thought that Steve wasn't that stupid to come up with such an idea that would probably get most people killed. He was saying exactly what was said on the piece of old paper that he’d read, documented by Phillips himself.

If he ever got back to his own timeline, Steve would be hearing about this. There was no way that he’d let him get away with this idea. And a glance at Bucky showed that Steve would be getting an earful later anyway. Neither Bucky were happy with this idea.

\----------

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jamie said as he dropped his head to the side while stretched out on the sofa, his _father_ on the other one. He and Bucky were relaxing in the lounge room, the two of them the only ones really there as the rest of the Commandos were being debriefed. Steve and Phillips had already done this with Jamie and Becky, though Jamie didn't really need it as he knew what was going to happen anyway. He’d actually had a say in a few things since he’d realized that only a few little things were different from what was actually said in the books he’d read. He just simply changed them to fit history.

“Coulda warned me ahead of time that you were planning to torture someone,” Bucky replied, his attitude a tad salty, and though it was amusing to see him like that, he did feel a little bad about what he did, but it had to be done. From what he could remember from the Smithsonian, they had less than 24 hours instead of 24 on the mark to figure out how to take down the plane and by then people were dying left and right, even the Commandos had gotten hurt. With this time that they had, they can take precautions. So really, Jamie did help and didn’t just torture Zola for revenge. Well… he did, sort of because this knowledge was from Jamie, not the scientist… _time travel and this whole situation were too confusing._

“Why? I wouldn’t let you sit in on it,” he continued to watch him while lying there all chilled out and relaxed. He wasn’t actually on guard anymore. He felt like he could be calm and not anxious. After Zola, before the meeting, he could feel it in his bones and muscles that he felt eased. He wasn’t as on guard or snappy and he felt relieved in a way. During the mission, he’d still been at attention, but less so.

“Why not?” Bucky shifted and he watched as the man turned so that he was lying on his front, head resting in his crossed arms as he stared at him in return. There was a crease in his browline and he knew that that was a worry-line. He was concerned and he wasn’t entirely sure why. He didn’t want to focus to try and figure it out like he could and had before, he was finally calm and relaxed after all this time.

“It’s-... because I feel like the Winter Soldier’s close to the skin when I use a skill I was programmed with when I was him,” it wasn’t a lie. It was the same deal with the mask. When he wore it he felt like he was wearing the one that he used to put on when he was the Soldier and it always felt like he was close to the surface, just close enough that he could rip through his skin and come out, the Soldier ready to kill and maim and take everyone down.

“So you didn’t want me to see you turn dark?” Bucky summed up and tilted his head a little to the side. Jamie continued to keep his eyes on him as he stayed still, sprawled out on the couch with his ankles crossed over the arm of the chair.

“Yeah, basically,” he reached an arm behind him, cradling his head before shifting enough to be able to see Bucky again and when he did, the guy was frowning at him, which drew one to his own face. “What?” he blinked a few times.

“You seem different,” the frow quirked a little higher on one side, a sign of thought and he just kept eyeing him, Jamie doing the same, but more in confusion than anything. “Your face has less stress in it. I don’t know, you just look more… relieved? Relaxed?” he’d seen it too then. Jamie hadn’t been the only one to pick up on the fact that he was less at attention and more chilled out.

“I got my anger out on Zola?” his tone came out maybe a little uncertain and it came out as a question. He tried to shrug in his position, finding it a tad difficult with how he was actually lying down. Still, though, he got his point across and it drew a lazy smirk to Bucky's face, a bemused huff leaving his lips.

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe you should torture him again later if it relaxes you,” He knew that was a joke, but Jamie actually jumped where he was lying down and stared at him like he was crazy. He watched him with wide eyes and gave him a _‘are you serious?’_ rhetorical expression.

“Don’t joke about it. I would,” Jamie replied with a hard tone, pointing a finger at him like he was a child getting a scolding. There was no way he was going back in there to torture him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop the next time around.

“Got something against him?” Bucky let out a short laugh, regardless of Jamie's tone and reaction. He seemed to take it as something amusing over something that actually affected him, though he had a thought that he was just covering up any concern or other emotion that was felt when Jamie reacted the way he did.

“There’s a lot I have against him,”  he replied curtly, lying back down to relax again. He liked it when he was relaxed and this was not him being relaxed. Maybe he _should_ go back to say hi to Zola, maybe it would help. Though that was only if Phillips didn’t mind cleaning up the mess and the body afterwards.

\--------------------

“I’ll say it again, I don’t like not understanding something,” Stark shrugged and huffed for the umpteenth time. At least they were making progress. Clint could understand that the guy rarely didn’t understand something, but geez, he didn’t have to make a comment about it every damn second something didn’t add up to this rock. Which were every few seconds.

“You’ve said that like… a hundred times already,” Clint pointed out exasperatedly, letting his hand drop down on the countertop rather roughly, along with his phone and he immediately checked it over for any scratches or cracks. It was only those two in the room, if you could count Tony being on the screen as being in the room, then yeah, it was just the two of them.

“And I’ll say it a hundred more times until I understand it,” As Stark said the last part of that sentence he turned to the screen with a pointed stare as if the answer should have been obvious, that he’d say that and Clint should really have expected it.

“Warn me before you do, that way I can take my aids out,” Clint replied with a scoff before checking out the text he had. He read it fast and grinned. “Lucky says Hi,” he said out loud to Stark since he was the only other person there. He remembered that Kate was looking after Lucky while he was in Wakanda. He really wanted to be back in Bedstuy where his adorable pooch was waiting for him.

“Wait, your mutt can talk?” he snapped his head up as soon as the word _mutt_ left Tony’s mouth and sharply glared. No one called Lucky a mutt. He was a beautiful dog with the best personality that anyone could ask for!

“Firstly, he’s not a mutt, you take that back,” he pointed at the screen and then relaxed, his exterior easing up. “Secondly, no, he can’t talk. Wish he could, that way he can just tell me what he wants instead of shitting on my floor and whining,” he huffed, turning back to his phone and sending out a really fast reply before locking the screen and pocketing the device.

“I thought you trained him?” Stark said and Clint glanced up at the screen, watching him and noting that Tony wasn’t even looking at him as they talked and he was managing to write stuff down. It’d be funny if Clint was actually distracting him and what he was writing about the stone had pieces of their conversation in it-, actually no, that wouldn’t be funny. Buckster was still in the past and they had to get him back… Ooops.

“It’s harder when they’re his age. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, right?” Clint gave him a lopsided smirk and gestured with his hands the hopelessness of his situation. He was tempted to just cover the floor in newspapers so that he didn’t have to keep throwing out pieces of carpet whenever his shits stained the floor.

“Wrong, Steve’s a prime example that that quote is all lies,” Stark then paused to point at the screen and it drew a chuckle from the both of them. Clint scoffed with his and covered his mouth with his hand. There was a moment of quiet chuckled before he heard someone deeply clearing their throat and he glanced over to the door, eyes wide when he saw Steve there, arms crossed and he then walked further into the room.

“You gonna insult me some more or are you gonna figure out how to use that thing?” there was a little silence before Tony let out an uncertain “Hey, Caaaap,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I used my verbal writing with a mic. I'm sorry if there are mistakes. I'm trying to learn how to use it properly and where it'd actually pick up everything I say with my Welsh accent.


	36. Chapter 36

Jamie had been hanging back, watching as Steve _knocked the front door_ and he resisted jumping out there. He was only there to make sure that he got caught and taken in instead of killed straight off the bat. Everything went as well as he’d expected though. The guys were already on the mountain across the way from the window of the building and Steve was taken in after getting surrounded so many armed guards and Hydra agents. The big flamethrowers made him bristle though, making him think that they were about to burn him instead of capturing him.

He watched as he was walked in, arms held behind his back and Jamie inched his way across the treeline until he was as close as he could get without being in the open. He inched closer and closer towards the very edge of the forestry, keeping his eyes peeled and his guard sharp before ducking out and then hiding behind one of the unoccupied tanks, hiding behind it as a few guards strode past. Even in the daylight, Jamie was a ghost.

He turned his eyes towards the massive open gates thanks to Steve previously running his bike into it and exploding a hole in it. He took a quick and sharp look around before ducking into a role and then hiding behind the next tank, closer to the open door. He sat in a crouch, watching as another set of guards walk past before he skulked towards the hole, avoiding any eyes and then hiding behind it, peeking out to make sure that he wasn’t seen. After he saw that he hadn't been made he started stealthily walking along the hallway, his head low and his reflexes ready for anything until he heard Schmidt’s voice echo along the hall he was in.

Jamie stayed silent and started to slowly head towards where he could hear the voice. He knew that Steve was there because who else would Schmidt be talking to while sounding that pissed off? At this point, he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Bucky had fallen from the train and there wasn’t much written about what happened in this section of the past from Steve and Bucky’s point of view.

He quickly slipped across the hallway until he was up against the other wall and was directly beside the room where Schmidt was with Steve and a few Hydra agents. He stayed put, listening in on the conversation and gradually his expression changed to a deep frown when he heard a fist connecting with something and he assumed that was Schmidt hitting Steve. He reluctantly stayed still, biting the inside of his lip to stop from walking into the room and taking the Hydra boss down then and there. He’d heard Steve say something about being a kid from Brooklyn, ordinary and he assumed it was why the Scientist was happy with Steve having the Serum over Schmidt. It still boiled his blood that he’d hit Steve though. Wait until Bucky heard about this. He’d go crazy on the Hydra boss.

Jamie took a silent breath and waited, really straining his hearing until he heard the faint ‘clinks’ of metal hitting rock and that was when he took a very careful look into the room, seeing the moment when Schmidt took a step away from Steve, who was kneeling on the ground, and he darted up from where he was crouched, timing his cue perfectly. He used his metal fist to knock out one guy and roundhouse kicked the other, hitting them as hard as he could so that both of them wouldn’t get up afterwards.

“Captain,” he called and helped the man to his feet, Steve taking his arm and pulling himself up. He looked over to Schmidt and saw the rage and recognition in the man’s, yes, his eyes scattering over Jamie before he pointed at him accusingly.

“You!” His tone was coarse and rough as if he'd been eating sandpaper and Jamie only let a lazy smirk cross his lips. Regardless of the smirk, he was internally livid at seeing the red face again. He was heated and screaming inside to kill him. And if that wasn’t the Soldier inside him, it was Jamie. They both wanted him dead.

“Wish I could say it’s nice to see you again,” he shrugged and then glanced towards the window when he saw the flying bodies incoming from the ziplines. As soon as they were close and the glass smashed on impact, Jamie darted forward and lifted his leg, booting Schmidt back against the wall just as agents started filing in. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he was dragged down to the ground by Steve as guns started firing and bullets started flying, bodies of Hydra agents falling fast, one after the other.

After a moment, bullets still flying, Jamie lifted his head along with Steve and saw that they were out of the gunfire radius. They both stood, Steve quicker as he saw Falsworth reach for the shield and threw it towards them. Bucky was by Dugan’s side, his gun unloading fast and easy and he gave Jamie a mock, two finger salute, and he returned it.

“You might need this,” Steve caught the shield and Jamie grabbed his gun from his shoulder, starting to fire on agents as he watched Bucky make his way over and they both stepped out of the line of fire, Jamie having grabbed Bucky by his arm to draw him out of sight behind a wall.

“You go with Steve,” he yelled over the gunfire, blinking as bright sparks from the fire hit the wall they were behind. He was used to gunfire, but the sparks still hurt his eyes and by the looks of Bucky face, they were hurting his as well. The cons of War.

“What? What about you?” Bucky yelled back, his face full of concern when Jamie made it sound like he wouldn't be joining him along with Steve as they chased after Schmidt. He wouldn’t be because the plane they’d get on would be going down and he couldn’t be on it. He wasn’t meant to freeze there. Bucky was now and that would be the most crucial moment. Bucky needed to be there for Jamie to live on.

“What about me? Look-, just go with Steve!” he shot back with a deep frown, staring him dead in the eye and it looked like Bucky was adamant about staying there with him. “What did I say at the hospital!?” he yelled, frowning harder and Bucky’s brow twitched for a moment, maybe surprised that he brought it up. He then saw the realization on his face after he remembered and he huffed.

“Follow Steve ‘til the end of the line,”  he almost sounded resigned and Jamie glanced over his shoulder to see Steve running through the doors out into the hallway. He didn’t want them to miss the chance, but this was so close. This window was closing fast.

“Then do as I say, that’s an order!” he yelled again and watched as it seemed like Bucky was about to wildly protest, his mouth opening wide and then shutting as Jamie’s expression gave him no room to. Jamie would make sure that he’d be on that damn plane!

“Be careful!” Bucky yelled and gave him a hard hug before he darted off into the spray of bullets, Jamie watching as he jumped through the same doorway Steve ran through and he headed in the same direction.

“Back at you,” Jamie replied more to himself before taking a deep breath and then jumping out from behind the wall to start firing on the agents coming in.

\----------

They were pushing back enemy lines as they headed deeper and deeper into the base, the rest of the armies filing it and taking out as much as they could after Phillips sent them in. Dugan was tossing the big Tesseract gun between both himself and Jamie so that they both got shots in and there were no surprises. Really, it was actually the fact that they both liked the gun and were sharing, but no one else needed to know that.

They were deep into the base and Jamie felt this urge. He tossed the gun back to Dugan and darted off towards a nearby hallway, heading straight for where he was sure the hanger was. He burst through the door, seeing a mass of bodies shooting at each other and then far in the distance he saw Steve and Bucky running at full pelt towards the plane that started turning. It was leaving. He panted lightly and sharply started glancing around for anything until he saw Schmidt’s car on the side. He eyed it and then glanced towards where they were still running before immediately darting towards it.

“You better work!” he yelled at the car as he jumped in and looked around for the key, finding it in the glove compartment.

“Room for one more?” he glanced up to see Peggy climb in the back behind him. He said nothing and stuck the key in the hole and then turned the engine overhearing the intensely deep purr rumble through the machine. He took a breath and then stepped on the accelerator, feeling the insane pull it had as it started moving. And they were off, shooting down the straight path towards the plane and the two guys that were slowing down.

“Hey!” he called loudly, watching the two snap around as he tried to slow the car down. They both looked surprised and jogged closer, the two staring at them oddly.

“Do you even have a driver's licence?” Bucky asked incredulously as Steve got in and Jamie just simply replied with a “Shut up and get in,” to which Bucky did and they both held on for dear life when Jamie put his foot down again, sending them speeding down the runway again. He swore he heard a _‘Jesus christ’_ from Bucky and Steve more than likely clipped him for that. Jamie took no more notice as he saw the long doors at the very end of the runway begin to open and he looked over the dashboard for anything that would amp up the speed, smirking when he did and without hesitation, he pressed the button, his grip tightening on the wheel when it felt like the wind almost peeled his face off.

“Keep it steady!” he heard Steve yell as he climbed up onto the door of the car, one foot on the seat cushion and then he glanced in the rearview mirror to see Peggy reach up and drag him down into a kiss. Jamie glanced ahead to give them the privacy and felt a hand grip his shoulder hard, drawing his gaze towards Bucky.

“Been good serving with you, son,” at hearing him say that, it drew a smile to his face and he could feel the stinging in the corner of his eyes. This was actually hurting him deep inside and he really wished that this man had been his father at some point. He’d have had one helluva proud child.

“You too, dad. I’ll see you when I see you,” he replied loud enough for Bucky to hear and watched as the two stood up and kept steady as the plane got close. They edged carefully towards the front of the car just as the plane was about to lift and they both jumped, Jamie’s heart skyrocketing and he had to pull and turn the car, skidding fast and roughly to try and stop as a cliff edge came really damn close, the plane now off of the ground.

They stayed put, both he and Peggy watched the plane fly higher and higher, the wheels lifting up and disappearing inside. They were in and he sat there, staring wide-eyed along with Miss Union Jack.

“He’ll be fine,” Jamie said simply, catching her attention, not her eyes though. She was still staring and he saw her hand inch along the seat rest of the front seat he was sat in, looking for some kind of grip and he lifted his own hand, resting it over her hand to show some comfort and she gripped back hard. She was worried and he wasn’t surprised.

“I know,” she replied quietly and he watched her before turning his gaze back to the plane.

\----------

Jamie took a deep breath as he walked the hallways of the base, avoiding any eyes or gazes of anyone that was still about, mostly soldiers from their units, no Nazi’s or Hydra since they fell back immediately as Schmidt left the base, left them for dead. It was everyone else now, their side and Jamie had had this hunch, something in his head that was just itching. He felt edgy and withdrawn and he just started walking after he returned Peggy to the Colonel and went off in search of the Commandos.

His feet had taken him elsewhere though and he found himself standing outside of the lab's area, staring at the door that was bolted shut. He stared at it for a moment and then reached his metal arm out, his hand resting on the door before he pulled back and punched the bolted full force, feeling it give and then did it again and again until he caved in on itself and fell.

Jamie took a step into the room and found everything that could be considered inhumane. All the torturous lab equipment that could pass as something to help people. It was all lies. He stepped further in and looked around, noting the pile of files on the table beside the gurney. He stared and then headed over, reaching his hands out to look through them.

There were names upon names upon names and he looked through them, memorizing them until he realized that they were men from the units that were captured. He frowned, reading as many as he could and moving faster to read faster- He stopped and stared at the file in hand, eyes wide at the name _James Buchanan Barnes._ They had him on file at this point. He put the rest of the files aside and opened it, looking at the image of Bucky down in the corner. There wasn’t much in the file, but enough that it seemed like he had more potential than anyone else. There were notes everywhere like someone had put effort into this file in particular.

Jamie read through what he could without feeling like he’d throw up until he saw the words he dreaded. Manchurian Candidate. New Fist of Hydra. Potentially The Winter Soldier. And he then put the file down, still open. His mind was blurring and he felt like he would actually throw up, he had to look down, away from the file. This was the… the file… _THE File._ His file. Jamie took a breath, trying to calm his jittery nerves. He felt hot, his skin itching uncomfortably and he could imagine that if the Soldier found this, he’d burn it. If the Soldier had spent all this time with Bucky… he would burn it.

“Canon?” Jamie snapped around to look at the door, seeing Dugan standing there, half in half out of the room. He looked serious, his expression stony and with barely any emotion there. “Whatcha doin’ in here?”

“Just-... I had a hunch and it panned out?” he sounded uncertain himself and he saw Dugan’s brow quirk at that as he stepped in and strode closer. Could he tell him? It wasn’t like he could really tell anyone now and he was sure that there was enough trust between them. Besides, Bucky wasn’t here now. He was on the plane and would be frozen soon.

“Hunch, huh? What’d you find?” he strode closer and Jamie closed the file to hide it for a moment, watching him closely and seeing that Dugan saw his movement around closing the file in front of him, giving him a pointed look of suspicion.

“D’you still not believe that I’m Bucky’s son? Or brother?” he asked simply. He could tell him, he just had to be sure that he wouldn’t tell anyone else about this.

“Absolutely,” was his reply, no thought of hesitation between the question and answer. So he still didn’t believe him about any of this and honestly, he still didn’t blame him. Turned out that Dugan was the sharpest knife in the knife drawer.

“Is there a chance that if I told you the truth, that you’d tell someone?” Jamie stared directly into the man’s eyes, keeping them from faltering so that he could find any sign of a lie or twitch that would make him clam up and hold the information for himself. “Doubt you’d believe me with this one either though,” he then added as a little bite at the Soldier.

“If you tell me, I’ll shut up about it,” was all he said and Jamie stared hard, trying to catch any sign that he was bullshitting him. But he saw nothing and that was a relief. He felt a soft breath leave his throat, having been unaware that he’d held his breath for a moment.

“I’m Bucky, but not from this timeline,” he watched as everything seemed to stop except for their blinking. Dugan said nothing and was just staring at him for the longest moment, seconds feeling like minutes feeling like hours before the bigger man huffed in resignation and disbelief. “Look, you know that I’ve been called the Winter Soldier, right?” he quirked a brow in question, watching as the man exasperatedly nodded. “Then take a look at this,” He stepped back and pointed at the file, watching as the man took a step closer and saw the name on the file.

“So? They had us all filed while they tried experimenting on the guys that got out alive,” the guy pointed out simply like this should’ve been obvious to Jamie. And it was, Dugan just wasn’t really understanding what Jamie wanted him to do.

“Second page inside, third paragraph down,” he saw Dumdum huff and then set his gun down before he started reading, still huffing to himself before he stopped and stared, his expression turning into a frown that just got deeper and deeper as he seemed to think about it. Jamie had him read the _Potentially The Winter Soldier_ part and he knew that that was why he was stumped.

“I don’t get it,” the man then said and stood straight, turning to look at him. Jamie had his arms crossed and was staring at the other Soldier, watching him carefully for cues. He just seemed confused and disbelieving, regardless of his words and what he saw in the file.

“I’m Bucky, but from a timeline where I fell from the train. You remember the mission to capture Zola?” there was a scoff and Dugan reached his hand up, scratching at the front of his head under the hat, the hat shifting with his hand before he set it right and then stared at him again.

“You fell from the train? How are you alive?” he gestured towards him, incredulous and he still didn’t seem to believe him, but Jamie knew that it was hard to believe, especially since he was standing there, alive and healthy.

“I don’t know either. I was pretty much dead when I hit the floor. Hydra found me, took me to a base and-...” he stopped himself, having felt the frustration gradually build up for a moment. Seriously, what would it take for him to finally believe something he said? “I’m thinking that this might actually be the place where Zola brainwashed me and gave me this arm,” he lifted his arm and just waved it in gesture before crossing it over his chest again.

“So you’re-... Bucky. Our Bucky. Bucky that’s currently on a plane?” his eyebrows were both quirked high on his face and he didn’t actually know if he believed him or was considering it. He was hard to read right now.

“Yeah, but-... I changed something. I saved Bucky. I shouldn’t have been able to do that,” he pointed out, frowning to himself and glancing away. He still wasn’t so sure that he was meant to, but he did and it was crazy weird. It made him feel like he accomplished something he wasn’t meant to, but his heart said that he should have and he felt great about doing it. He was conflicted and it was odd like it was good thoughts against bad.

“Look, kid-... I don’t get any of this yooha and I get you even less,” the man closed up the file and handed it over to him, Jamie’s brow knitting as he grabbed it. “Do whatever you want with the file, but let me make this clear… you’re not Bucky,” his tone was harsh and he felt the strong pang of disappointment when it seemed like he really hadn’t gotten through to him. “You’re Jamie, Canon, Tank… you’re a Howlin’ Commando through and through,” his heart suddenly skipped at that, his eyes having widened through hearing that sentence.

“Dumdum,” he muttered softly, watching a smile grow on his big, stupid face.

“You’re one of us,” his heart felt like it would melt at hearing those words and he seriously felt so grateful and at home. His brain was blank and his eyes were wavering, stinging in the corners again, but he wouldn’t cry, absolutely not. “C’mon, everyone’s in the radio room, we think Peg got through to the plane,” Jamie nodded and followed after the man as he started leaving the room.


	37. Chapter 37

“Please, don’t do this. We have time, we can work it out,” he heard Peggy’s voice as he stepped into the control and radio room, seeing Peggy sat at the radio, her expression sad and as if she was about to cry. He watched the screen beside her, stepping up close to see the outline of the plane. It had a few tankers missing, the bombs. There weren’t many left.

_ “Right now, we’re in the middle of nowhere. If we wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die,” _ he didn’t remember this, didn’t remember any of this having been wrote down and it swelled in his chest, the sadness of what he guessed was about to happen.  _ “Peggy, this is my choice. I love you,” _ Jamie swallowed thickly, staying a few feet behind her, beside the Colonel and just glancing towards him, he saw the guilt and pity on his face when he glanced back, staring before glancing away. He knew what was about to happen and he knew that Bucky and Jamie were too close for this not to hurt him.

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice shaking. There was a bit of silence and then Steve said something fast, Peggy nodding and getting up from the chair, a hand over her mouth. She patted Jamie’s shoulder and gestured to the chair. He was hesitant to sit.

_ “Jamie?” _ he heard Bucky’s voice and he immediately skipped over, not sitting down though. He rested his hands on the table, his mouth directly in front of the mic.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he replied swiftly, trying to keep his tone and voice level. He waited a moment and stared at the screen with the plane outline, watching it and trying to distract himself from the gradually withdrawing feeling in his chest, the cold shudder starting to climb his spine.

_ “Hey, kid,” _  a soft, sad smile tugged at his lips and his focus faltered, he glanced down at the mic and then sat down, his voice coming out as a whisper.

“Dad,” so no one else could hear him bar for Steve, but he really didn’t care at that point. He knew that Bucky hearing him say it one last time would mean the world to him and from the light, happy huff that came over the coms, it confirmed it. The sad smile grew a little and tried to hold back the stinging. He wouldn’t cry, he didn’t want to, not in front of all these people.

_ “It’s been one helluva wild ride and I’m overwhelmingly glad I met you. Say hi to your mom for me?” _ Jamie shook his head and closed his eyes, swallowing thickly at hearing him ask that. Bucky still didn’t know and honestly, he didn’t want him to. It would hurt him so bad.

“Yeah, I will,” his voice had almost cracked, but he tried to hold steady as he heard the odd engine sound in the background, Steve probably pushing the handle down so that they were starting to angle.

_ “You never explained how I get outta this,” _ Jamie ran a hand over his mouth and forced his smile to stay on his lips. He knew that he didn’t die, he couldn’t, not at this point. He’d be with Steve and Steve had only been frozen.

“You’ll have to find out for yourself, ol’ man,” he chuckled sadly, hearing Bucky do the same and it sounded identical to his own.

_ “Punk,” _ at that, Jamie let out a quiet surprised laugh, actually laughing some before running a hand through his hair. It sounded like the plane was getting faster, the engine having to keep up and it was lowering, he could feel it.

“Jerk. Til the end of the line,” he muttered into the mic sadly, his voice deeper.

_ “Til the end of the li-,” _ it cut out.

And like a switch was flipped, Jamie swallowed harshly and the tears started flowing, one slipping down his cheek and then the next following, Jamie sniffing softly and dropping his head into his hands. His breath started stuttering and he let out a sob, one being heard from behind him and he then felt a hand on his shoulder, Peggy’s.

“They’ll be fine,” he heard her say and he almost burst into tears right there and then, his shoulders shaking and his body vibrating. She was in tears as well and he forced himself to stand and turn around, dragging her into a hug where she erupted and needed to use him to stand. In that moment, he tried to focus on helping her over crying and managed to hold back what he had left. He was hurting so much and could feel the burn still there in his eyes, but he held it in favour of helping.

He glanced up and eyed the Colonel, who was staring down at the floor with his hat in his hands, a dark expression on his face and then he glanced to Dugan and the Commandos, who were all there, gats in their hands and glancing down, a few looking at him with concern, more than likely to see if he was alright, that being Dugan and Monty.

He nodded at them, getting one in return.

\----------

“You never explained the whole dad thing,” Steve said with a sad smile on his facBucky bucky knew for a fact that it’d be useless to explain at this point. There was no real answer he could give him with how little time they had left before the hit the water.

“Long story. I’ll tell you when we wake up,” he said as an excuse, seeing Steve stare at him exasperatedly before they saw the huge blanket of white hit them.

\----------

Jamie was sat in his quarters, the one he shared with Bucky. He could feel it, all the emptiness growing and taking over. He felt nothing, had done so much crying since they brought him back to his room and he stared at his hand, eyes intently focused as he could see right through it. Yeah… right through.

He turned the hand and could still see through it. There was a green tint too like that weird Northern lights in the sky a few days before the big Train mission. Why green? He dropped his arm and stared at the ground, waiting to disappear.

He’d done everything he wanted to and needed to before getting here. He’d talked to the Commandos, said his Goodbyes without them noticing, with Dugan very much noticing. There were a few hugs, a big one from Dernier and they were all sorry about Bucky and Steve. They’d offered a night out with drinks, but he’d decline-.

“Canon,” he snapped his eyes up just as Dugan walked in, eyes going straight to his arm. “I take it this means you’re not staying?” Jamie looked down at the arm and stared, resenting it before glancing back up with a sad smile. There was a lot of that going on, the sad smiles and apologetic expressions. He didn’t need any of it, but took it anyway because he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

“Everyone’s gotta go sometime, right?” Jamie replied flatly, aware that Dugan knew what he meant by that. He wasn’t sad about it. He was happy, it meant that the Winter Soldier that Hydra created was never created, that he didn’t kill innocent people that didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, I getcha,” Dugan stepped further into the room with drinks in hand, beer bottles from a local store. He watched closely as he came in and Dugan grabbed the nearby chair, moving it closer to the bed where Jamie was sitting. He sat down and handed out a beer, Canon using the hand that hadn’t started disappearing yet to hold it, taking a long swig before swallowing and enjoying the taste for what it was. It wasn’t like he could get drunk from it though.

“To Bucky and Steve,” Jamie lifted his beer, just staring at the bottle and felt Dugan clink them together before they shared another long chug of it-

\----------

Dugan swallowed what he had of the beer in his mouth and opened his eyes to see the empty spot of where Canon had been, green dust and smoke starting to fall. His beer was draining out in the bed where it was lying on its side and he nodded.

“To Jamie Buchanan Barnes,” and he then took another sip of his drink before kicking his boot up on the bed, kicking the other up over it and crossing his ankles.

\--------------------

“Lieutenant,” he heard one of his guys call him and and he turned around, pointing his torch out ahead of him as he made his way over to the guy crouched in front of something. “What is it?” he stared, eyes wide and heart hammering at what was found. The shield, the Commando Badge on the shoulder of a jacket.

“My god… base, gimme a line to the Colonel,” he called over the comms, his tone calm and all he heard in reply was excuses about the guy taking a damn nap because of the time. “I don’t care how late it is. These one’s have waited a long time,”


	38. Chapter 38

Bucky startled himself away, his heart skipping a mile a minute. It took him a few seconds to actually catch up with what was going on around him and he frowned, hearing this constant ringing in his ears. He dropped back to the bed, head buried in his pillow and he threw his arm out, slamming it on top of the alarm clock and hearing a sort of crash.

A few minutes later and with pure silence he was relaxed again, his heart beat having regulated and he was happily in bliss again, his eyes shut and a tired smile on his face. He turned over onto his front and engulfed his face in the pillow, managing to breathe through it. He was so happy, so calm and relaxed just lying there with no care in the world. His breathing patterns turned heavy and he started dozing off again, his body completely heavy on the mattress-.

“Buck, C'mon, we’re going to be late. Fury wants us on the Helicarrier,” Bucky hot up in surprise, enough that he ended up literally lifting from the bed in shock and turned over to glare at Steve who was grinning in the doorway, beaming a smile at him like he didn’t have a care in the world. So what that they had to be on some big ship? This wasn’t Bucky’s fight, why was he being dragged into this?

“Why am I going again?” he asked tiredly, sitting himself up with a hand out behind him, keeping him up while the other one, the metal one, hand through his hair. He’d lost it when the plane went down all those years ago. Unlike Steve, he wasn’t sitting, so he was thrown around when the plane hit the water. Something took his arm off.

“Because you’d rather be with me when I inevitably do something stupid,” Steve was definitely using his own words against him there. He always said something like that when Steve was being dragged into a mission. But apparently, this was a big one, something to do with Loki, a God or something. It was a big mess from what he heard from Steve and Fury. He was even handed a file. “Oh yeah, Howard was invited and he wants to do some upgrades on your arm,” 

Bucky was immediately out of bed and throwing on whatever clothes he had. He loved upgrades, especially Howard's because they had flare and sometimes had awesome booster attacks like his last upgrade. It had a compartment for these tiny explosives and they were so damn useful. He used to think about asking to have the colour changed from Silver to a Howling Commando Green, but-... this was Jamie’s colour. He had the silver metal and he could easily remember him with it, though he didn’t really need the arm to be able to remember him. He was always in his head and heart.

“Okay, where to?” he turned towards Steve in time to see him shake his head in fond exasperation before he left the room and headed to the living room of their shared apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a short end, but I thought that simple was the best way to end it.
> 
> I adore this story and it's by far my favourite after all the time and effort I spent writing it. This will hold a special place in me and I hope that it will with you, regardless of all the mistakes that were in it. I tried fixing them as I went along, but I know that there are still mistakes everywhere and hopefully I can fix them sometime in the future.
> 
> Thank you all for following this story and kudos-ing and leaving feedback if you were any of these. Thank you so much for pushing me too. I know that about halfway through this I lost all motivation, but I thank you for kicking my ass into gear to get it done. It was so worth it from where I'm standing/sitting.
> 
> Thank you and I hope you enjoyed this story.


	39. Thank You/Related Series

Thanks to the last chapter I have a multitude of ideas on what could’ve happened now that everything was changed. I can do so much with how open and empty I left it.

This means that, in a way, this story will continue, but not the actual Story of Real Or Not itself. It’ll be a “what happened afterwards” sort of thing, which would be written up in either multi-chaptered stories or single chapters ranging from “one” chapter to “I don’t even know” chapters.

You’ll get to see what _I_ think would happen and how it happened. Such as Steve and Bucky meeting Sam Wilson, who was only brought in after the Winter Soldier and even how the dynamic works between Howard and Tony now that they’re both together while Tony is an adult. And even his mother.

I’m really excited for how this may go and I know that some of it may be out of character, but that would only be because of the change I made to Bucky. He wouldn’t be as damaged and as dark as he was when he was the Soldier. I guess that this would be a tad modernized except for the movies.

I’ll more than likely follow the rest of the movies if they fit into this. Civil War might not happen though since it was Steve and Bucky that were the main characters against it, Steve, because of our Cinnamon Roll, Bucky.

Anyway, like I said, there’ll be a series called The Soldier-Fly Effect. [ https://archiveofourown.org/series/888423 ]

It’s a play on words, the Butterfly effect? Yeah? No? I thought it was clever...

If you want to see more on this alternate timeline, please follow the series, it won’t be long before I start uploading chapters and single chapters for it. I need to finish a few things before this, but I guarantee that I’ll be getting to it soon.

Thank you to the ones that read this story to the end, left kudos and took the time to give me great feedback and wanted to discuss this story with me. It makes me incredibly happy and a huge thank you to the ones that pushed me to keep this going when I didn’t feel so good about it. Thank you so much!!


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